The Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt
by Manchester
Summary: It's never too early to start planning, which was also the reason Willow used to keep from telling anybody her plans to coerce into this the people in charge of the New Council. Starting with Rupert Giles himself, and involving all her other friends.
1. The Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt

Glancing around at the quiet conference room inside the Scottish castle which was the New Council's main headquarters, Willow Rosenberg knew she'd done the right thing. Ever since the usual potential apocalypse in May had been averted several weeks ago, the leaders of this secret organization consisting of Slayers, Watchers, and their support staff were still recovering, both physically and spiritually, from their superhuman efforts to safeguard the world once more. This time, thankfully nobody on their side had died, but there'd been a good number of casualties, some of them serious. Magical healing had fixed up peoples' bodies as well as ever, yet all too many of the others sitting at the conference table had the worrisome thousand-meter stare of those stressed well beyond their souls' limits.

Her friends definitely needed to have some fun. And given how much work a certain red-haired witch had recently put into this, they were damned well going to. Or _else._

Clapping her hands several times to attract the attention of all there, Willow then gaily announced, "All right, everyone, I'm sure you're wondering why you've been invited here today! Well, here's the big reason: in a few minutes, you'll all be starting the very first Scooby Scavenger Hunt!"

Willow now paused for what she knew was coming. As expected, from most of those there, an immediate storm of protest, annoyed shouts, and disbelieving comments came forth, resounding throughout the conference room. Just as quickly, all of this expressed irritation turned into utter silence at every single person there receiving a direct look from the famous Resolve Face.

From the far end of the table came a tired chuckle, "Forget it, guys. She's not gonna let us out of this, no matter how dumb it sounds. Okay, Wils, what's the what?"

A quick glance had Willow's heart leaping in joy at seeing the very wry smile now upon Xander's scarred features. This was gladly all too different from the weary expression he'd been showing at large over the last week or so. Sending back a delighted grin at her bestest bud, the witch huffed with mock indignation at him, "I spent a good ten minutes coming up with that name alone!"

Still smiling as she looked around the table, Willow continued in a more serious tone, "When you all came into here, I sent a magical message to your assistants, seconds-in-command, and lower-ranking people, telling them you'll be out of touch for the whole day, until tomorrow morning. If there's a real emergency or anything else they can't handle on their own, it'll be up to me to decide to bring you out of the game. Except for something like that, for the next twenty-four hours, you'll be too busy going through what I created."

Taking a deep, patient breath at seeing how grumpy most of the listeners there still appeared over having to put up with something so ridiculous which she was proposing, Willow now allowed actual concern to creep into her tone. "Listen, people, I'm not doing this simply to mess with you. Can you all honestly tell me you don't _need_ some kind of short break or time off from your latest case of the glooms? At the very least, you'll have a chance to forget or be distracted from your troubles for a little while. Nobody _has_ to do this, but will you just give it a try? For me? Pleeeaaase?" That last drawn-out word ended in a beseeching sniffle, accompanied by the best puppy-dog-eyes gaze Willow could manage around the conference table.

In his own chair, Xander was quietly sniggering to himself. It'd been far too long since his yellow-crayon friend had shown off her inducing-guilt chops, but Wils was doing her Jewish female ancestors proud, judging at the reluctant nods of agreement she was currently getting from the rest of the people in the room. Feeling in a much better mood for the first time in weeks, the one-eyed man eagerly waited for whatever was going to happen next.

Perking up at how everyone was seemingly on board (however grudgingly in some cases), Willow beamed at them all, to then wave her right hand in a careless gesture. This resulted in glowing numbers abruptly appearing over the heads of all there but herself, ranging from 2 to 11. This little display of magic then shifted into something much more prosaic, as the witch's hand then dipped into her dress pocket. Coming out clutching something in her fingers, a quick flick of these sent a pair of dice tumbling across the tabletop.

This was followed by a short comment which abruptly chilled the spines of most of the others there, despite how cheerfully Willow had spoken: "First, we start off by making it more interesting, completely at random!"

Several minutes later, numerous people around the table were regarding each other with various emotions, including dismay, uncertainty, and actual incredulity, as they sized up their newest partners. Due to Willow's casts of the dice, ten men and women were now in five two-person teams. In order, they were:

Xander/Kennedy  
Dawn/Rona  
Faith/Andrew  
Buffy/Chao-Ahn  
Vi/Giles

Rapping a knuckle at the tabletop, Willow drew their attention back to herself, while then pointing at the center of the table. In another flash of magical light, ten objects appeared there from out of thin air. Also paired with each other, these items consisted of five miniature books the width, length, and thickness of Willow's palm. Each of these were side-by-side with five more small video cameras about the same sizes of the books.

Speaking briskly, the witch explained to a bewildered room. "Each team takes a book and a camera, and these have my magic in them to help you play the game. Now, here's the whole purpose of the Scooby Scavenger Hunt: after you start by opening the book, you and your partner will be transported together to another dimension. Once there, either you've got to collect something or do something, and maybe both. Inside the book will be written down short instructions on what to find or do, and also where you are, if this isn't already apparent. Finishing your task takes you to the next dimension, just like finding the prize in your current dimension does, too. But before then, you've got to gently pull apart the book by its covers, which will open it into a small pocket dimension. Put the prize in there - it won't get broken or lost - and push the book's covers back to seal it up and leave for the next task."

Glancing around the table, an amused Willow noted the rather glazed expressions everyone now had over hearing the words 'another dimension.' Really, did they think she was going to do something so trivial like having them search through the entire castle in a completely ordinary scavenger hunt? Nope, not a chance. This was going to be a _Scooby _Scavenger Hunt, which meant it had to be totally unique, weird to the max, and having the mischievous prospect of some hilarious mishap being inflicted upon the players. In fact, it was almost certain the latter would occur to someone…

Biting her tongue to prevent a witch's genuinely evil cackle from escaping, a straight-faced Willow started talking again. "Now, the camera's for recording when you're told to do something. Either of you can use the book or camera, which will always stay with you, and both of these give you the same magical protections. First, wherever you appear, you'll be taken for granted and look like you belong there, to a certain extent. Sometimes you'll have to sneak around and stay hidden, and of course, if you screw up or otherwise behave too oddly, you'll get noticed. If that happens, you can start all over. Either of you, just say the words, 'Do-over,' and you begin right from the first time you appeared there, so you can try again."

All there were now listening intently. Whatever their startled feelings about the surprise of where they were going, the New Council members could always put this aside when it came to the really important stuff. At least Willow's instructions were a lot more understandable than the last couple of prophecies they'd been involved with over the years, so the teams continued to pay rapt attention to the scarlet-tressed witch still speaking.

"However, this leads to the main part of the game. You won't know how many tasks you have to complete, or how the others are doing. There's just one thing which'll be known to everyone: the game's time. All the books and cameras will have on them a synchronized magical countdown from twenty-four hours to zero. During then, you need to perform as many tasks as possible. Whoever's done the most tasks at the end of the game wins. Which means you'll have to start strategizing right away about time. A certain task might take too long, or if you need to do it over again, it'll still use up more time. At any point of this, you can say, 'Skip to the next task,' and you'll go on to the next dimension. You won't have done that task, so it won't count for you at the end of the game. There's also no guarantee your newest task can be done in less time than the previous one to make up for the time you lost. You'll just have to decide for yourself. Oh, by the way, if you skip more than three tasks, you forfeit the game and wind up back here." At those final words, Willow indicated with a tilt of her head the conference room.

After a few more moments of the witch smiling around the table but not otherwise opening her mouth, the rest there now took the chance of asking their own questions, in an overlapping babble from numerous people. Among these were:

From Andrew Wells looking worried, "Is it safe?"

An irascible Buffy grumbled, "Just where are we going, anyway? It better have a bathroom, 'cause I'm not gonna hold it all day!"

Giving his glasses a good polishing, Giles agreed, "About that rather tactless point, you haven't mentioned any other, er, bodily needs, such as rest, food, and drink, Willow."

Raising her voice over the others, Vi impatiently snapped, "I've got work to do! Can we quit anytime we want?"

During all this, the witch just stared back in silence at her interrogators, a wide grin upon her face. When the others paused at seeing that, a man's sardonic voice slipped into this hiatus.

"Wils," called out Xander, going on when he knew his fellow Sunnydale survivor was aware of him, "Is that all you're gonna say?"

Her grin now reaching from nearly ear-to-ear, Willow happily nodded.

Giving an half-exasperated sigh, Xander allowed his own lips to twitch in faint amusement. He then abruptly stood up, to reach across the table and collect in both hands, apparently at random, a book and a video camera resting there. During this, a wary look had been sent by Xander towards the other end of the table, where Willow was brightly eyeing him, but otherwise remaining mute. Straightening up, the man with a black patch across his face then glanced at what he was holding. In small glowing white numbers, on both his book and camera, there showed 23:59:55.

"C'mon, Kennedy," called out Xander, tossing the camera across the table to the startled Slayer seated there, who unthinkingly caught it. Staring with astonishment at her team partner, the young woman heard him gleefully say, "Looks like the game's starting! Let's beat the others!"

Before Kennedy could actually respond to this, Xander now opened the book, and without any fuss or bother, both he and Willow's girlfriend vanished into thin air from the room.

There was a moment's shock which caused everyone else to freeze motionless in their own chairs, until the competitive instincts common to all there kicked into high gear. Hasty lunges across the table resulted in eight other people collecting their own books and cameras, and without further ado, Willow Rosenberg was completely alone in the conference room.

At that point, she finally allowed herself a good, long belly-laugh, continuing this even when her stomach started hurting.


	2. The Slayers, Or There And Back Again

The instant both Slayers appeared into their new environment, Buffy and Chao-Ahn simultaneously spun around to put themselves back-to-back with each other. They narrowly eyed the vicinity for any possible supernatural threats which might be about to attack the young women. However, unless the trees around the duo were in some way a masterful disguise for the local demon population, this didn't seem at all likely. Relaxing slightly, the warrior ladies still continued to warily examine their latest surroundings, which were a great deal different from the castle conference room where they'd been just a few seconds ago.

Buffy and Chao-Ahn were in some sort of small forest glade, completely encircled by ancient, thick-trunked trees rising high to the sky and turning the day into dimness under the concealing leaves of a massive canopy of interlocked branches overhead. Drawing in deep breaths of ultra-pure fresh air, the pair of puzzled Slayers saw no roads of any kind leading to or from the clearing, merely several narrow game trails among the bushes throughout the glade. Even with their heightened hearing, neither could make out any nearby sounds except for a steady breeze rustling the leaves, distant birdcalls, and the occasional falling acorn.

"Buffy," whispered Chao-Ahn, causing that named woman to turn her head and see out of the corner of her eye the other female gazing around in total confusion. The Asian Slayer quietly continued, "This doesn't look like any place I know. How about you?"

A Los Angeles native shrugged in her own bafflement, commenting in a matching low tone, "Beats me. It's not anywhere near the castle, that's for sure."

Trying to peer past the closely-packed trees ahead further into the woods, Buffy's view was blocked by Chao-Ahn coming around to stand face-to-face with the other Slayer. Both women prudently kept on watching over the their companion's shoulder during the next few moments, until Chao-Ahn prompted Buffy, "What about the book you've go, that Willow said would give us instructions on what to do?"

"Oh!" blinked Buffy. She glanced down at her right hand still firmly clutching this item, to then smile sheepishly at her scavenger hunt partner. "Forgot about it! I just opened it, without looking inside, so we got sent here right away!"

Lifting the small tome to face level, Buffy pulled the book's covers apart, while Chao-Ahn stepped forward in a half-circle which ended with her at Buffy's side. Both could now read at the same time what was presently displayed on the book's pages in the Red Witch's distinctive handwriting:

_There's some minor differences which you'll see right away if you've read the book, but you're now inside the closest dimension I could find where J. R. R. Tolkien's __The Hobbit__ actually happened. It's just after when the story's characters encountered the trolls, who got changed into stone. Your task is to find and sneak up onto Gandalf, the dwarves, and Bilbo Baggins without them detecting you. Then, when they've left, you need to dig up the treasure they found and buried from the trolls' loot, and take a few souvenirs to prove you did this._

An astonished giggle burst from Buffy's lips, soon followed by even more laughter. This was quickly joined by her partner's own delighted hilarity. Abruptly cutting off their mirth, both now looked at each other in wonder, with Buffy unthinkingly asking, "What, you've read him?"

It wasn't until Chao-Ahn's amused gaze made Buffy realize that last question might have been a little rude. She quickly blushed, which only deepened further at the other Slayer chuckling, "Tolkien's been translated into Chinese, Buffy, and I've read him in English, too. I'm more than familiar with his books, but I never thought I'd land in them!"

Smiling at someone who clearly wasn't offended, but instead rather happy at the latest turn of events, Buffy snickered, "Wils has been a busy little bee, I bet! Wonder what else she cooked up for the others?"

Chao-Ahn looked thoughtful for a few moments, before gracefully shrugging, pointing out, "It doesn't matter in our case. Though, she did say we have to keep track of time. So, do we try to do this, or skip to the next task?"

"Ummm…," mused Buffy, now that she'd been reminded of this. She went on thinking aloud, "Don't see why not. If we're careful, sneaking up on them's doable, what with us being Slayer quiet. I've done it before on vamps. From what I remember of the story, Gandalf wasn't - isn't - all wizardy-powerful like he got in the Lord of the Rings books later on. Yeah, there's a chance of him not noticing us. Dunno about how well the dwarves or a hobbit are aware of what's going on around them, but, hey, we might as well as see for ourselves!"

At those last words, Buffy grinned at a worried Chao-Ahn, who at this moment wasn't sharing the thrilled mood of the other Slayer. Instead, the Oriental woman then brought her team partner back down to earth right away by doubtfully mentioning, "Buffy, how do we even _find_ them in the first place?" A suddenly-glum Asian waved a despairing hand at the looming forest around the pair, which showed absolutely no indication of anyone else but themselves currently in the dense woods.

A hollow "Oh," came from Buffy, over this clear-cut mention of a serious obstacle to their plans. Trying to come up with something, Buffy re-read Willow's instructions. However, these only hinted at their potential objective being nearby, but otherwise failed to give them any actual directions. An abrupt drawn-in breath then caught Buffy's attention, causing her to shove the book into her jeans pocket while she looked up at Chao-Ahn staring fixedly at one extra-large tree in particular at the edge of the glade.

Following her gaze, Buffy couldn't see what was so fascinating about the tree, until Chao-Ahn excitedly said, "That's the tallest one here! Let's climb it, and see if we can find them from the top of that!"

"Yeah!" enthusiastically agreed Buffy, who broke into a quick trot towards the indicated tree. An eager Chao-Ahn easily matched the blonde's strides. Stopping an arm's length in front of the massive trunk, Buffy performed a Slayer leap which carried her straight up a good fifteen feet high into the air. Grabbing onto the nearest horizontal limb with her hands, another smooth surge of feminine muscles sent Buffy soaring upwards to the next branch, with again Chao-Ahn copying everything.

Like a pair of oversized squirrels, the two Slayers soon found themselves on opposite sides of the highest level of the tree where they could safety stand on the branches there. In her perch, Chao-Ahn quickly scanned the entire horizon before her, only to find a green, uninterrupted landscape of even more trees as far as she could see. A quick hiss of her name then from the other side of the tree caused the Asian woman to climb over there, where Buffy was proudly pointing a finger. Following where her partner directed, Chao-Ahn saw several kilometers straight ahead a break in the tree line, signifying the possibility of a much larger clearing there. Grinning at each other, the warrior sisters began to descend.

Several minutes later, Buffy was moving silently through the woods, her superhuman senses working at their highest level. Right now, she could occasionally hear faint voices beyond, though they weren't yet comprehensible. Glancing over at where Chao-Ahn a few yards away was advancing just as quietly, Buffy saw a gleeful flash of her teammate's teeth, showing the raven-haired woman was genuinely having fun.

It was certainly different from their days together in Sunnydale years ago, when a bewildered Chinese girl totally unable to understand anybody speaking to her still tried to live among all too many people in an overcrowded California house during the war with the First Evil. Buffy had a great many regrets over that whole horrible time, but one of her most remorseful memories had been how she'd paid far too little attention to somebody undergoing what surely had to be the most stressful period of a young woman's life. Much later, Buffy profusely apologized to Chao-Ahn after spending several weeks undergoing virtually the same situation, when the Senior Slayer had lived at the Shanghai Slayers House during a possible apocalypse. This hadn't occurred, yet Buffy was still forced to depend upon everyone there to find an English translator for the blonde, live with being functionally illiterate, and miserably subsist upon strange food, which even if it'd been quite edible, this was completely unfamiliar to her.

A smirking Chao-Ahn had thoroughly enjoyed this abject request for forgiveness, but in her accented English which she'd quickly learned after Sunnydale, the Head of the House graciously provided this. The Asian woman was then pleased by Buffy's vow to be more considerate of her people, and they'd been on good terms ever since, though their responsibilities on separate continents meant the women had rarely interacted ever since. Which was why Buffy had been really glad over whom she'd gotten as a game partner. Unlike Faith and Andrew, with it being even odds as to whether the quick-tempered brunette from Boston had already slaughtered the dork-

As if choreographed, both Buffy and Chao-Ahn slipped without the slightest sound through the underbrush, to then lie down next to each other on the ground, cautiously peeking past the concealing shrubbery to look at what was before themselves. Sure enough, there was a bare, steep, rocky hillside next to a large clearing, with an extinguished campfire in the center of this. Around the ashes and unconsumed logs of the fire stood three large and very ugly stone statues of some sort of monstrous fiends. All of these immobile creatures currently had various expressions of anger, shock, and fear upon their unlovely features now forever carved in solid rock.

*Yeah, they could be Olaf's dumber troll brothers,* inwardly derided Buffy, remembering her own experience with Anya's former husband, who'd had the idiocy to cheat on a Norse woman willing to do anything for vengeance upon her straying spouse. A motion seen from the corner of her eye diverted the blonde, as Buffy glanced over to note that Chao-Ahn had taken Willow's video camera from her pants pocket, and she was busy filming what else was presently taking place in the clearing. A wide grin splitting her pretty face, Buffy just managed to hold back her laughter at how everyone back at the castle would react over seeing what both of the Slayers were now witnessing. Hey, _she_ was right here, and she couldn't believe it herself!

At the far right of the clearing, by the tree line, a bunch of, well, persons were gathered together. There was a tall guy dressed in a grey robe (who didn't look all that much like Ian McKellen, come to think of it), a whole mess of much shorter people best described as 'wide and hairy', and one really dinky fellow uncomfortably dressed in oversized clothing clearly scavenged from the rest of the height-challenged group. Buffy squinted, since she wanted to be absolutely sure…but, yep, Bilbo Baggins' bare feet indeed resembled a really shaggy pair of mohair socks.

Feeling distinctly charmed about it all, Buffy continued to observe in her utter delight. Two iron-bound wooden chests were carefully laid by the dwarves into the pit recently dug for these, with the hole then being covered up again with blocks of turf previously cut free and laid to the side. Once the dwarves had finished fussing around in smoothing and tamping down the spot, Gandalf the Grey stepped forward and touched the tip of his staff against the trunk of the gnarled tree several yards or so beyond the covered hole. The staff moved in a complex gesture, unmistakably drawing something there. Buffy blinked at seeing how the treasure location now looked absolutely identical to the rest of the untouched ground of the clearing.

Feeling very thankful at succeeding in staying unnoticed by Mr. Wizard, given how he'd just shown off his mojo-ness with that glamour spell, Buffy propped her chin atop her crossed arms, and she kept watching. It didn't take all that long for everybody there to collect their stuff and then take off, with the entire group swiftly vanishing down a narrow trail on the far left of the clearing, probably created in the past by the trolls. Chao-Ahn filmed a few more seconds of the deserted clearing before turning off the camera and putting this back into her pants pocket. She now looked at Buffy, and without a word, the Chinese Slayer held up her right hand and she opened and closed together all her fingers three times, lifting an inquiring eyebrow.

Keeping her own mouth shut, Buffy nodded in acceptance. Fifteen more minutes of waiting seemed okay. If those guys came back for something they'd forgotten, it'd probably be during then. In the meantime, Buffy closed her eyes and she decided to take a quick nap.

Some time later, a gagging Buffy scampered out of the trolls' odiferous cave in the hillside, carrying in one hand the closest thing to a shovel she'd hastily grabbed out of this lair. It was some kind of wooden scoop, which was all she cared about, what with the fingers of her other hand pinching shut her nose. This barely kept out the smell of a place where three trolls with no idea whatsoever of hygiene had been living for a while. Glancing up from where she was kneeling on the ground while pulling free and laying aside turf blocks, Chao-Ahn snickered at the fuming look Buffy was giving her.

Plopping down on the grass besides the other young woman, Buffy stabbed the scoop into the loose dirt revealed there, all while grumbling, "I still can't believe the Chinese invented rock-paper-scissors!"

Chao-Ahn simply maintained her smug air over earlier winning their quick shoushiling match to see who'd do which chore, as she watched Buffy irritably dig into the ground with the scoop. Fortunately, since they already knew where to search, the glamour spell laid several minutes ago by a wizard upon the tree marking the spot wasn't affecting either of the Slayers. Though, Chao-Ahn idly wondered if this enchantment would still function once-

A hollow _thunk!_ sound came from the ground at the same instant Buffy's excavating arm jarred to a halt. Soon after, the job was completely finished when both Slayers had gotten a good grip on the revealed chests, yanked these out of their pit, and carried the heavy strongboxes several steps away, to next deposit them again on the grass. Squatting down in unison before these, Buffy and Chao-Ahn were happy to see neither treasure chest was locked. Only a pair of primitive latches held tight the lids, making it easy enough for these to be pried open and lifted back.

"Oooooo," drifted through the air of the clearing, while both Slayers lovingly crooned in perfect chorus at seeing all manner of shiny gold objects, precious jewels, and other valuables jumbled up together inside the chests. And it was now totally _theirs._

Speaking of this… A thoughtful Buffy took out of her jeans Willow's magical book. A further calculating glance at this small volume ended with the blonde dreamily suggesting, "Wanna see if we can get every bit of that in here? Wils did say this little thing was a pocket dimension, which means there won't be any problem with stuffing-"

Despite her own genuine avarice, Chao-Ahn had to regretfully point out to her companion, "Buffy, the book ends with Bilbo and Gandalf coming back to this place and collecting the treasure, even if it's not exactly like the chests here. From what I remember, Tolkien wrote about the dwarves hiding elsewhere pots of gold they found in the trolls' plunder. The wizard says he'll find this useful, and I don't know exactly what'll happen then in the story, or afterwards, if the treasure's gone. So, it's not a good idea to interfere too much. We've got to put it back."

Buffy's lower lip was now protruding in a truly dangerous pout, with this annoyed woman then snappishly reminding Chao-Ahn, "Willow _told_ us to take a few souvenirs! I want to keep something for myself, and maybe a few little birthday gifts for the others back home!"

"I didn't say _all_ of it had to stay," soothed the Chinese Slayer. Eyeing with growing lust a magnificent emerald brooch resting on top of the loot in the treasure chest before her, she went on to state, "Nobody will miss one or two-"

"Ten, each!" quickly interjected Buffy, her irritated mood beginning to evaporate now that the negotiations were starting.

Thinking this over, Chao-Ahn soon shook her head. "Too much; it might be noticed. I suggest three or four, if they're small enough."

Buffy's eyes gleamed at the prospect of this, but she still stubbornly held out further: "Six or seven sounds better to me!"

Chao-Ahn stared at Buffy defiantly looking back, before she said in her sternest tone as the adult in this discussion, "Five, and we have to agree on each other's choices!"

"Deal," nodded a very happy Buffy, and they smiled at each other. Settling themselves comfortably in a sitting position before their separate chests, the pair of Slayers began going thoroughly through their latest loot, soon starting to gleefully show off to their game partners the more impressive prizes.

A couple of leagues down the forest trail leading back to the clearing, the small band of travelers once more on their way to steal a dragon's hoard were in the main cheerfully chattering with their companions as they bustled along. Of the dwarves, Thorin Oakenshield and his older escorts were treading in the middle of the trail, and the younger members of his clan were trekking around the sides and at the front, calling back and forth their congratulations over getting out of such an uncomfortable situation as a troll's potential meal. Bilbo scurrying after, at the back of the crowd, had to inwardly agree with the others, but he was more preoccupied by his empty stomach. Wondering when they'd stop at the place where they'd left the ponies for a meal of the palatable food taken from the trolls' cave, the hobbit decided to wait just a few more minutes before proposing hopefully a quick break for a bite. In all this, no one was paying any attention to the last of their company, who was maintaining his usual somber quietude.

At the rearmost position, Gandalf the Grey walked with long strides, his staff coming down on the ground in time with his steps. After every dozen or so instances of this, the wizard would give a wary glance to either side into the forest, and then over his shoulder to uneasily regard the empty trail behind. At the moment, this mature man was rather troubled, but he'd previously decided to not tell the others of what had been bothering him ever since they'd left the clearing where three trolls had been changed into stone after being caught outside at sunrise. After all, it would've been most unkind to tell the dwarves and the hobbit that for the last part of their presence back there, they'd all been under scrutiny by something holding itself concealed deeper inside the treeline across the clearing.

The primary reason for keeping to himself this worrisome detail was that Gandalf hadn't mystically sensed any hostility whatsoever from their hidden watcher. However, this might've changed if the others had learned about this from him, with the distinct possibility of someone acting rashly in such a way to make matters worse. They'd already been luckier than they deserved with the trolls, so if remaining reticent about their unseen observer would keep the peace, Gandalf was more than willing to do so. In any event, his decision had turned out to be correct, with their small group having departed the clearing while remaining unmolested. Plus, so far, he hadn't felt the presence of anything following their company while still staying out of sight. As long as this happy state of affairs continued, perhaps for the next few hours, he'd refrain from giving his companions any cause for alarm, and indeed never mention it at all to them, if things further went well.

While continuing to follow his charges, Gandalf couldn't help but to wonder exactly _what _had been watching them. He'd been unable to using his wizarding powers to identify this in particular, but it'd decidedly been something the robed man had never encountered before in his long life. Oh, well, there was always in Middle-Earth the chance of unexpectedly coming across a most strange creature out in the wilderness. It was a pity, really. One way or the other, it'd have made a rather decent story.


	3. Anger Her, You Must Not

'Kay, it was 'bout time to pass onto fan-boy here the facts of life between themselves for the next twenty-four hours.

In a very calm voice holding within this the promise of unimaginable death and destruction, Faith Lehane now explained to Andrew Wells, "Lissen, dickwad, it ain't like I woke up this mornin' in a mood to seriously wet my panties just 'cuz today was gonna be what Red called the Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt when she sprung it onta us. I didn't wanna be in this fuckin' stupid game in the first fuckin' place, but now I'm playin', there ain't no way anyone else is gonna beat me, ya hear? An' that includes bein' teamed up with someone with alla the survival instincts and street smarts of a goddamn stuffed teddy bear."

Taking a quick moment to study how the specific shade of light puce on Andrew's face was presently deepening into a dark magenta color, Faith decided it couldn't hurt to deliver some more warnings to make her team partner behave. Well, except for the possibility of a few million oxygen-deprived brain cells swiftly dying off inside Mr. Dork's head, but it wasn't like she actually _cared_ about this.

Continuing to clamp shut Andrew's throat in her crushing Slayer grip, Faith briskly spoke into this young man's glazed stare, "So, here's the deal. Ya do anythin' to attract attention, like geekin' out over where we are now, for two cents or what passes for pocket change in this place, I'll sell ya inta slavery here. Then, I'll leave yer ass behind for fun an' games with the weirdo alien buyer I unloaded ya on as yer new master. Got alla that?"

From where her fingers were buried in the flesh of his neck, Faith eased up slightly her strangling clutch on Andrew's throat. Even with her heightened hearing, she just barely heard from him a feeble, "…ysssss…"

Well, hey, looks like it can learn.

Abruptly releasing her grip, Faith ignored how Andrew then limply fell flat onto his face onto the noisome alley ground. Stalking over to lean against an adobe-like building wall, the Slayer pulled out one of the half-dozen knives hidden under her clothing. She spent the next minute or so using this weapon's needle point to blithely clean under her fingernails.

In due course, Andrew regained his breath, so that instead of wheezing it, he then happily burbled while still lying on his stomach, "I still can't believe we're really here on Tatooine, and our next stop's the Mos Eisley Cantina!"

Somehow managing to forget everything in the last couple of minutes which had been painfully inflicted upon him, the supreme Star Wars fan now lifted his head to unabashedly grin at Faith across the alley rolling her eyes in sheer exasperation.

Why _her?_ Who'd she piss off lately to get stuck with somebody damn sure gonna be a real pain in the butt for the whole game?

Several moments later, in a wretched hive of scum and villainy, the current occupants of this desert planet bar paused in their nefarious affairs when the front entrance panel slid open. A small figure swaggered inside, to then take a quick step to the right, putting their back against the wall and preventing themselves from being outlined against the brightness of the still-open entranceway. In a casual yet meaningful gesture, the visitor's hand now fell upon the hilt of a bladed weapon attached to their belt, and drew this just a fraction out of the scabbard, far enough to show a bright and very sharp edge. Reassured that this latest patron knew the proper etiquette, the other customers went back to their usual criminal plotting. Until, the _next_ visitor showed up.

Lurching into the entranceway and stopping right there, another and somewhat taller figure imprudently goggled around in the absolute stillness which had abruptly descended throughout the entire cantina. A low murmur then arose, composed of various alien languages, all of which were gloatingly expressing exactly the same thing: "Fresh meat!"

Glaring at the bar's clientele, who were each and every one of them in turn beadily eyeing the person behind the first figure, this individual reached out with a free limb to firmly grasp one of the second figure's aural protrusions. Keeping a determined grip onto this part of their companion's body while towing that unfortunate being after them, the smaller figure paid no attention to the continuous, high-pitched sounds being produced by the other, as they headed towards an unoccupied corner booth.

At last seated together, Andrew angrily rubbed at his aching ear, and forgot himself to go as far as growling at Faith warily studying the bizarro dudes around them, "You didn't have to do that! I wasn't finished with classifying the crowd-"

Still not looking at her companion, Faith snarled back just as irritably, "Who gives a fuck? Me an' just 'bout everyone in this place, 'cept _you,_ is either some kinda nasty piece a' work, or wants ta be one. Anyhow, we ain't here to do nothin' but what Red laid out in her li'l book."

With that, the Slayer absently patted the lump in her jeans pocket, where she'd put this magical object right before entering the cantina. Before she could say anything else, Andrew now produced a truly unique noise composed of a half-yelp, half-gurgle.

"What? _What?_" anxiously demanded Faith, whipping her head around to stare at where Andrew's slack-jawed face was disbelievingly gawking at across the center area of the cantina. Following his gaze, Faith promptly developed her very own incredulous look, to then choke out, "That can't be Harri-"

"No," dazedly interrupted Andrew, "not the actor. It's the original character, Han Solo himself, with Chewbacca."

Both New Council members then fell silent, while they continued to watch in utter fascination at the young man with quite familiar features idly conversating with an enormous and extremely furry creature sharing a table with this human. Leaning back in his chair, the unaware pilot of the _Millennium Falcon_ sipped from a container cradled in one hand.

Observing that, Faith's eyes narrowed in sudden thought. She then glanced around the room, before spotting something or other standing a few yards away, who with their very posture announced itself as nothing else than a servitor. Waving her hand in the general direction of the what-is-it, the Slayer caught this strange being's attention, resulting in it shuffling over to their booth. Looking up into an unearthly set of features, Faith pointed at the male human across the room, and she carefully spoke, "We'll have two of what he's drinking, thanks."

Their servitor stood motionless for several seconds, before swaying its upper body from side to side once. Then, it turned around and slowly headed towards the main bar. Watching this, Faith heard Andrew whisper curiously, "What're you doing?"

Glancing over at where her companion was staring in puzzlement, the young woman succinctly replied, "Orderin'. 'Member what Red told us to do, in the book? We gotta take from this place a couple glasses or what else they're gonna serve our drinks in. But it ain't likely they'll have any booze here like other bars pour out back home - beer, Scotch, whatever. So, it just makes sense ta ask for what we can see some other guy puttin' down."

"Good idea," Andrew said admiringly.

Faith only smirked at him, before they both took note of their servitor back again and placing on their table two completely prosaic drinking glasses. However, these were filled to the brim with something far less mundane. Without any further interaction, the alien attendant then wandered off, leaving Faith and Andrew both dubiously regarding the bubbling, purplish fluid in the glasses. For once acting sensibly, Andrew right away declared, "You first."

Casting a disdainful glare at her game partner innocently gazing off into the distance, Faith shrugged, and then the Slayer grabbed her glass. Bringing this up to her nose, she cautiously sniffed at the surface of the liquid there, muttering under her breath, "There's some kinda alcohol in there - fermented vegetable, I think - but one I ain't had a whiff of before. Nothin' seems hinky, so…down the hatch." In one quick motion, Faith tossed back the entire glassful.

Andrew regarded with alarm an abruptly-still woman, who'd also developed a supremely blank expression upon her beautiful face. After a few more seconds of total immobility, Faith's right eyebrow quivered several times. Next, her lips opened for the appreciative Slayer to hoarsely growl, "Smoooooth."

Giving his own glass a considering stare, Andrew reached out for this, only to have it swiftly removed from the tabletop in a blur of superhuman speed before his fingers even touched the glass. Shaking her head at Andrew's outraged look, Faith took a long sip from the drink she'd just stolen from him. Before the geek exploded, the Slayer warned, "Unless ya recently turned in yer stomach for a new, steel-lined belly, it ain't a good idea for anyone but me ta guzzle this stuff. That Han guy, he musta built up a helluva tolerance, but ya ain't in his league."

"Yeah, okay," sulkily agreed Andrew. This Sunnydale survivor did brighten up a little bit after saying this, due to being reminded once more of exactly of where he was, only a few yards away from one of his childhood heroes. A fleeting thought of going right over there and maybe asking for an autograph was quickly quashed at the horrific image of what Faith would do to him for even suggesting it, much less daring this. But, darn it, he'd like to have some sort of souvenir of his visit to the Mos Eisley Cantina besides just a glass- _Wait_ a minute!

Faith was enjoying the warmth spreading out in all directions from the center of her body to pay all that much attention to Andrew squirming around at her side. Only when the last drops of purple booze had trickled down her throat and she put the empty glass back onto the tabletop to join its consumed comrade, did the Slayer glance over, and she instantly reverted back into total sobriety. This meant instead of bellowing at the top of her lungs, she merely hissed harshly in her utter shock, "What the _fuck_ are ya doin'?!"

Intently watching, all while keeping his folded hands around the video camera resting on the table's edge and pointing directly at Han Solo and Chewbacca across the room, Andrew shortly replied, "What do you think? I'm not going to pass up the chance of getting this on tape!"

Her frantic gaze darting around the entire cantina filled with alien lawbreakers plotting together, Faith stated menacingly, "Ya pull out a recordin' device in a place like this an' get caught, ya better hope they're in a hurry, and just kill ya quick! Goddamn it, put the fuckin' thing away!"

To preoccupied with their sudden squabble to notice how two new visitors had entered the cantina and passed by their table to then become involved in their own confrontation at the main bar, Andrew vowed with implacable determination to an angry Faith, "You'll have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands!"

"Sounds like a plan," snarled back Faith, not caring how many people here were gonna see her shoving that camera up where the sun didn't shine. However, before this proctological procedure could indeed come to pass, both New Council members abruptly flinched at the sounds of swift violence from elsewhere. Swiveling their heads in tandem, a shocked Faith and Andrew now stared at Obi-Wan Kenobi standing over two dead bodies and calmly turning off his lightsaber, before rejoining Luke Skywalker at the main bar.

Despite turning pale, Andrew continued to steadfastly film what happened next as a Jedi and the son of Darth Vader went over to join Han Solo and Chewbacca at their table, while Faith just slumped back in the booth, trying to figure out what to do next. It wasn't until she heard from her side the recital by Andrew of such classic lines as "It's the ship that made the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs!" that the Slayer felt herself starting to recover from her daze. Faith was helped along in this by her growing annoyance over having to endure every word spoken over there also being ineptly repeated by someone with her knowing this movie dialogue by heart, without also possessing any trace whatsoever of acting talent.

She soon sent an evil glower at where an unaware Andrew was still elatedly observing everything, while also continuing to film it all. The brunette woman cynically thought, *Wonder how many versions of this scene that dorkman's gonna release, just like his big idol.*

Trying to remember from _Star Wars_ what was specifically going to next occur in the cantina, an alarmed expression then flashed over Faith's countenance. Leaning over to give Andrew a forceful jab in the ribs with a sharp fingernail, Faith was rewarded by a stifled yelp from him, accompanied by an irate glare delivered in her direction. The Slayer didn't care. Before Andrew could say anthing, he instead heard from his companion, "C'mon, time ta haul ass. I ain't gonna use Red's book to vanish us outta here in front a' everybody, so we need ta find someplace private. Get up, an' let's go."

"But we can't leave yet!" a horrified Andrew protested. Jerking his head over at where the four science-fiction legends were finishing their discussion, an obsessed fan declared, "I _have_ to get on tape the meeting between Han and Greedo the bounty hunter, to settle for once and all who shoots first!"

Her face turning even grimmer, Faith simply nodded towards where four Imperial stormtroopers in their white armor had just entered the cantina and were looking around. Hearing an actual gulp from Andrew at seeing this, Faith grunted, "Damn straight. I been rousted by the cops plenty of times, an' I ain't eager to do it again in this fleapit, with no way ta explain ta them who we are. They round us up, we'll sure as hell be in deep shit. Nah, much smarter ta just split early, an' if ya give me any more lip, I'll drag ya off by yer tongue. Comprende?"

Correctly figuring she meant every word of it, a wide-eyed Andrew gave several hasty nods. Satisfied, Faith collected the empty glasses from the tabletop and she surreptitiously placed them inside Willow's magical book. Longingly gazing at where the stormtroopers were talking with the bartender, a very reluctant Andrew then put away in his pocket the video camera. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, the New Council duo eased from their booth. Faith didn't think it'd be a good idea to leave by the front door, what with maybe more of those stormtrooper guys out there, so she headed deeper into the cantina, looking for some back way out. Andrew obediently trailed along after Faith.

The pair soon found themselves in a building service corridor clearly not intended for customer use. Stopping in front of another sliding door at the end of this, Andrew peered over Faith's shoulder while the Slayer examined the wall switches for this portal. A couple of experimental pokes on this opened the door, only to reveal a very small and bare room, with another door at the far side of the cramped space. Barely squeezing together inside the room with Andrew pressing against her back, Faith fruitlessly tried to open the second door, with her temper beginning to rise after every failure.

At last bringing back a leg to give this stubborn panel a damned good kicking, the brunette woman heard Andrew apologetically breathe into her ear, "Uh, Faith, the Star Wars Guidebook says that most above-ground Mos Eisley buildings have vestibules with double doors like this to keep out dust from the sandstorms. We have to shut the inside door first to open the other one."

Glancing over her shoulder, Faith both saw and felt Andrew twist around to hit the correct switch to close the ajar inner door. An instant later, the Slayer heard the door before her open, and she looked back, only to see standing outside in front of the door another four-man Imperial stormtrooper squad in their white armor, and all of them were now pointing their weapons directly at the revealed woman.

For a fraction of a moment, everyone there was part of a frozen tableau, which would've normally ended in a quick brawl of absolute carnage. However, something else completely absurd now occurred instead, as a certain person yelled as loudly as he could, "WOW, THAT'S DARTH VADER BACK THERE, DRESSED IN A BRIGHT PINK OUTFIT!"

Unable to stop themselves, the squad of soldiers simultaneously swiveled in their protective suits to peer down the totally deserted alley, where they'd been stationed to stop any possible escapees. All of these stormtroopers now heard the door behind them whoosh shut. Spitting out a vile curse, the squad leader hit the override switch on his in-suit computer, and with a trigger finger tightening on his blaster rifle, he spun back around to point this gun right towards at the once-more open doorway at the inside of the vestibule. Which, at this exact moment, was now completely empty of two people there, who in no way could've gotten through the inner door already. It was almost like they'd vanished into thin air…

"Where'd they go?" heard the squad leader over his communicator from one of his baffled troops.

Lowering his rifle, the sergeant in charge of their small cohort just resignedly hit the door switch again. Settling back into guard position in front of this shut exit, the squad leader curtly announced, "Doesn't matter. We didn't see anyone, nobody heard anything, and we don't talk about this, _ever._"

"But we've got to report-" confusedly came from the same other guy, who still didn't get it.

In a tight voice which showed he was barely keeping his temper under control, the squad leader gritted, "Did either of those people who weren't here look anything like who we were supposed to detain?"

"Um, no."

Nodding inside his all-over helmet, the squad leader then patiently asked the most important questions of them all, "Knowing that, do you think it's such a good idea to pass further up to our supervisors exactly what you heard a minute ago? How that made you - all of us - look? And just how long it'd take for the story to get back to one specific person? Not to mention what he'd then do to us-"

"How's that? Sorry, sergeant, my comm went on the blink again, like it's been doing all day. Got the same problem with my optics. Guess I better get this seen to when we return to the barracks."

"Me too, sarge."

"Same here."

Elsewhere in an entirely different dimension, Faith continued to hold Willow's opened book in both hands. Not yet looking down at the magical object which she'd frantically yanked out of her pocket moments before, the Slayer simply stared ahead for a while. At last, she sighed, "Okay, Andrew, I gotta say two things. First, that was one helluva diversion, and I haveta thank ya for it. Second, I never, ever wanna know just why ya said it at all."

Giving a convulsive, all-over shudder, Faith then turned around to regard this named individual, who was gazing around in utter delight at the sleek, futuristic building corridor which they were now occupying. Giving her oblivious team partner a puzzled look over why he wasn't presently paying any attention to the woman with him, Faith then actually read what was written on the new pages of Willow's guide to the Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt.

An extremely terse, "Oh, fuck," was Faith's sole reaction, before slipping the small book back into her pants pocket, and once more grabbing Andrew by his throat. Time again for another little chat with the geek…


	4. YoHoHo And A Bottle Of Rum

The floor unexpectedly shifted under the Key's feet, causing a startled Dawn to lose her balance and drop to her knees. The shock of these hitting the hard surface there, accompanied by automatically throwing out her hands to break her fall sent the object she'd been holding flying away horizontally until it hit the ground and kept on sliding. This small magical book skittered along weathered wooden planks, traveling past the toes of a pair of boots. Using her free hand not holding the video camera, Rona crouched down from where she'd been standing besides Dawn, and the Slayer neatly snagged the other one of Willow's gifts.

Straightening up while effortlessly maintaining her footing on the pitching floor, Rona looked around, and her jaw dropped in her absolute shock at seeing exactly where they'd just been transported by a witch's spell. Instead of the Scottish castle conference room where she and Dawn had been a few seconds ago, the two young women were now aboard the upper deck of a large sailing ship in the middle of the ocean sometime at night. Out past the railings of the vessel, there was nothing but heaving water as far as the eye could see, with these waves gleaming in the light of an exceedingly bright full moon shining overhead in a cloudless sky.

Glancing down at where a bewildered Dawn still on her hands and aching knees looked up in sheer bogglement at her friend, both participants in today's Scooby Scavenger Hunt hastily checked out their surroundings, with each peering in the opposite direction. From where they were in the center of the big boat, Rona stared at the front of this floating thing. The Slayer vaguely knew she should be using the proper names for whatever was in view, but, hey, it wasn't like a girl from Detroit was some kind of sailor or anything, okay? She'd do the best she could, so…from here to the pointy end, nobody but her and Dawn was around. This was seen by Rona's superhuman eyesight easily penetrating the deep shadows cast by the big sheets of fabric rustling overhead as they hung from their poles. Except for the swaying ropes dangling from those horizontal and vertical poles, nothing moved on the floor filled up with confusing pieces of wood and metal, all connected by these miles of rope.

"Psst!" came in an anxious hiss from lower down. Rona twisted her head to see where Dawn was frantically pointing a finger towards the back of the boat. Following the line of her game partner's gesture, the Slayer instantly dropped to her own knees by Dawn, with both of these New Council members now hiding behind a raised door laid flat on top of the deck. This was necessary to keep them from being seen by the guy there standing on another, higher deck and gazing ahead with a sleepy stare plastered upon his untidily-bearded face. That person was standing behind a big wooden steering wheel, his hands casually gripping the end spokes of this. Waiting with bated breath, both Dawn and Rona silently hoped the stranger hadn't noticed them.

Fortunately, Miles Thatcher had been a seaman for years. He'd long ago picked up the knack of comfortably dozing during his duties on those truly boring times of the midwatch when it was safe to do so, with tonight being a perfect example of this. There wasn't any land to wreck onto for hundreds of leagues, no other vessels were anywhere in sight, and the weather was ideal. Even the Caribbean trade winds were cooperating, with these sea breezes having been so steady for the last couple of bells that the other crewmembers hadn't had to touch a sail or line since sunset. Which meant those lucky sods were turned in below, slumbering snug in their hammocks but ready to turn out at a moment's notice if Miles shouted for them.

Not that there seemed any chance of this in the first place, with nothing interrupting Miles being half-asleep on his feet. Any remaining awareness was muzzily focused onto keeping the ship in its proper course, with only an occasional twitch of the wheel being done to adjust for the waves. In between, Miles continued to enjoy the peaceful night, all without realizing that his vessel had just acquired two new passengers from seemingly out of nowhere.

Still warily eyeing the weirdly-dressed dude at the wheel, Rona began to relax at seeing him doing nothing to show he'd spotted them. The dreadlocked woman's attention was abruptly distracted by a quick poke in her ribs. Irritably glancing over at where Dawn was pulling back a sharp finger, Rona heard Buffy's sister whisper to her, "Rona, check out the book Wils gave us. There's gotta be something in it to say why we're here - or even _where_ we are."

"Yeah, okay," shrugged the black Slayer in an equally low voice. Passing over the video camera she'd been carrying in her right hand ever since picking it up from the conference room table back at the castle, Rona fumbled with the little book in her other hand, thumbing open the covers.

Absently putting the camera into her front pants pocket, Dawn watched her game partner read whatever had been written there by the most powerful witch on Earth. A very wide grin now flashed white teeth in Rona's dark face, while she chuckled to herself, "Oh, girl, you've outdone your redheaded self!"

Dawn's patience lasted up until Rona wouldn't stop snickering under her breath. Finally, the Key hissed, "What's the big joke?"

Smirking at the annoyed woman lying on her stomach next to her, Rona excitedly waved the book around in a quick gesture taking in their entire location, "You wanna have another peek at this boat, just so's you figure it out on your own?"

Without actually thinking about it, Dawn did what she was told, but after one more searching gaze covering all she could see, this Sunnydale survivor grumped, "Look, I've never gone sailing before! Much less in something this big! Why would I have any idea about what's beginning to make me feel seasick?"

"Oh, you might not have been here before, honey, but you've damned well seen it!" chortled Rona. Continuing to a baffled Dawn, the Slayer told her, "This is nothing other than the one and only _Black Pearl_ from all those Pirates of the Caribbean movies!"

Dawn's eyes widened when she gaped at a thrilled Rona, just before gurgling, "We- We've really gone back in time and landed in the film, sailing with Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom…?" Trailing off in the middle of her question as Rona eagerly nodded in answer, Dawn suddenly poked her head above the hatch, to frown dubiously at the sleepy steersman at the stern. Not taking her eyes off the pirate there, Dawn began again in a more doubtful tone, "…and some other guy I don't recognize?"

Lifting up her head by Dawn's to make her own unsuccessful try at picking him out from the crew of the _Black Pearl,_ Rona wryly suggested, "He might be an extra, or somebody who didn't get shown on screen. Does it matter?"

"No!" giggled Dawn, elated over actually being in one of her very favorite movies. Ever since the first Disney film, she hadn't missed a single chapter in this appreciated series of pirate epics. The Key now demanded in an excited whisper, "So, what does Willow say we have to do? Meet with Captain Jack Sparrow and William Turner? Get their autographs? Have a swordfight with them? _What?!_"

Just barely keeping from laughing out loud at her game partner's fervor, Rona showed the open book to Dawn, tilting it so that the bright moonlight would illuminate the written words there for the younger Summers sister to easily read these. The Slayer's cheerful mood abruptly changed into confused unease at seeing how Dawn's face altered just as quickly then, turning as pale as the silvery light around them, while an expression of ultimate horror also appeared there.

Rona concernedly started, "Hey, what's the matter-," except she was interrupted by Dawn jerkily turning her head to fearfully stare straight at something, beginning to shudder in absolute terror. Following her scared-stiff friend's gaze, Rona saw nothing alarming there save for the tall column of wood at the center of the ship holding up the biggest set of sails for the whole craft. The Slayer's growing alarm only increased further at hearing the frightened whimper escape from Dawn's throat.

Placing a gentle hand on the Key's shoulder, Rona advised, "Dawn, calm down, okay? I'm here, and I'll beat the crap outta anything trying to get you. Just please tell me what's wrong!"

Twisting her head back around to stare ahead with a haunted gaze, Dawn slumped flat on the wooden deck. She then muttered, without looking at Rona, "You can't fight what's in my head, but thanks for trying, Rona."

"Huh?" came from the uncomprehending woman, who now heard a heavy sigh from Dawn, and then a fumbling attempt at an explanation.

"It…all goes back a ways, before Sunnydale collapsed. Years even, at our big fight with Glory, and how it ended. You know the story?"

"I've heard some of it," cautiously answered Rona. "Didn't Buffy, uh, die like for the second time?"

Dawn morosely nodded. "I was there, held hostage at the top of the tower where I was going to be sacrificed by Doc to open up her trip back home for Glory. Until my big sis took him out, and then jumped off the tower to take my place and get rid of the portal which was going to destroy the world. I had to watch Buffy fall, all the way down." She sniffled at having to remember this, causing Rona to reach out and give the other young woman a strong hug.

In the Slayer's embrace, Dawn chokingly went on. "Ever since then, none of the other Scoobies found out I can't stand being high up anymore, like in a skyscraper or a mountain. Airplanes are complete torture too, and I go on them only when really necessary, without ever looking out the window. So, when Willow said we've got to climb to the top of the _Black Pearl's_ mainmast-"

"Hey, we're not gonna do that, all right?" promised a shocked Rona. When this didn't get a reaction from Dawn, the other woman urgently continued, "Willow wouldn't have asked you to do what she wrote down if she'd known how you'd be scared about it, so we'll just skip it and go onto the next challenge-"

"No," interrupted Dawn in a very flat voice, all while pressing her forehead against the wooden planks of the ship's deck.

Rona paused, not sure exactly what her companion had intended by this adamant refusal. Eventually, she ventured, "Uh, you mean, you want to meet the pirate guys? Jack Sparrow and the others? Sure, why not-"

"No," repeated Dawn in another weary sigh. This time, she finally turned her head to meet the eyes of the anxious friend lying at her side, presenting Rona with a growing expression of apprehensive purpose upon Dawn's drawn features. The Summers sibling then enlightened her baffled game partner, "First, I think we can't do anything except what Willow directed, unless we want to risk forfeiting. Or, we might skip ahead to the next task without meaning to, but even if we decide on our own to do that, I still won't."

Dawn gulped, before speaking again. "I…have to get through this. Sooner or later, in our weird lives with the New Council, you can bet I'll have to deal with my acrophobia someday. The way things work out for us, it'll always be at the worse possible time. Probably when other people's lives are at stake. But, now…it's just a scavenger hunt. I can give it a try, and if it doesn't happen, no big deal. Does that make any kind of sense?" She finished with a note of raw appeal in her voice.

"Yeah, Dawnie," comfortingly answered Rona, who still sent a worried look at this Sunnydale comrade beginning to have beads of nervous sweat emerge on her forehead at the realization of what she'd just agreed to now struck Dawn. The Key was soon distracted by Rona's next reassuring words: "Look, let's just see how it goes. We head over there, and you check it out. If you still don't want to, fine, no problem. We'll do what Willow said, use her book to travel to the next challenge. Anybody asks after the game, we'll come up with some excuse for not doing this one. I won't say a word regarding your thing about heights, not when you trusted me enough to tell me. That okay with you?"

A tremulous smile momentarily lifted the corners of Dawn's mouth, and this time it was she who reached out to give Rona a grateful hug. Breaking apart, the two women then crawled along the deck to stay hidden from the steersman. They soon arrived at the bottom of the thick mast hewn from a single mighty tree, and rearing up at over a hundred feet from near the center of the _Black Pearl._

Dawn glanced up at the towering mast, only to jerk her head back down and away from the lengthy, terrifying distance from the deck to the crow's nest high overhead in the night sky. Keeping her eyes firmly fixed onto the planks a few inches away from her face, her stomach started to churn at the very thought of even trying to climb. Dawn then heard Rona's soothing voice coaxing her, "I'm here, Dawnie, ready and waiting for whatever you decide. You wanna leave, we'll leave. You wanna go for it, I'll be right behind you. You know Slayers better than anyone but the other Scoobies, right? Nothing'll happen, Dawnie, but you know to your very bones how fast and strong Sineya's daughters are, how much we look after our own. I'll be up there, closer than your shadow, quicker than lightning with a grab. Check out the ladder there, see if you're okay with it."

Ladder? Dawn lifted her gaze from the deck, and she peered through the darkness of the sail's shadows to notice among the set of lines raising diagonally from the deck to finish just under the crow's nest, horizontal lengths of rope had been interwoven in the vertical lines to provide a means for climbing there. Staring with increasing trepidation at this, Dawn's mouth opened in a beginning objection, only to abruptly shut again when she realized what would've come out of her throat was nothing less than an actual whine. Inside her mind among the overpowering state of dread over even attempting to scramble up that ladder, another emotion materialized, which was even harder to bear.

Shame.

Dawn Summers had lived all her life (however strange it'd begun with those stupid monks of the Order of Dagon changing the Key into a young girl) among other people ranging from pure human to demon to anything at all in between. Yet, each and every one of her family by blood and acceptance had in the past confronted their own fears and terrors. Whenever asked by those they loved and trusted, these same brave individuals would willingly confess at the moment of their tests, they'd have much rather done anything else at the time. If only because a spare set of underwear usually wasn't on hand. But they'd still persevered, no matter how scary it'd been for them.

Could she do any less?

Getting up onto her knees, Dawn shudderingly scooted forward on these until she was face-to-face with the rope ladder. Clutching at the closest rung at hand, the woman yanked down as hard as she could managed in her panicky grip. The ladder barely budged; indeed, the length of horizontal, sticky line Dawn was grasping only flexed slightly- Wait. _Sticky?_

Abruptly distracted by this unexpected discovery, Dawn peeled her fingers off the ladder rung. Turning her hand over, the New Council member squinted in confusion at the smear of black stuff left there across her palm. Bringing it up to under her nose, Dawn sniffed, to then smell…tar?

Dropping her hand to her side, Dawn blinked at the rope ladder entirely coated with the substance she'd just touched. She quickly decided the rope had been tarred to help the people normally climbing this ladder to hold onto it during their ascent. Which, for someone who'd never been on an old-time sailing ship before, was a pretty good guess. Still, in her present mood, it was fortunate Dawn didn't think of the real reason, given how the tar had been applied in the first place to keep the rope from disintegrating too quickly under the corrosive influence of the tropical climate and salt spray of the _Black Pearl's_ ocean journeys.

Ignorant of this, Dawn swallowed hard, and then she grabbed the ladder rung again with both hands, using it to get up on her feet. Standing there, the Key kept her faze fixed straight ahead through the spaces of the ropes making up the ladder, concentrating on nothing but the mast shown there. With a quick yank, she freed her right hand to grope for the next rung higher up. Seizing onto this, Dawn brought up her left foot and after another short search, she placed this on top of the lowest rung. A simultaneous convulsive downward push with her muscles then started Dawn's climb up the ladder.

Rona had remained silent ever since her last encouraging words, to let Dawn make her own decision. As the other young woman had indeed done, however tentatively, causing a wide smile of approval to appear on the Slayer's face. Getting to her own feet, Rona moved forward while vigilantly watching Dawn slowly make her way upwards, rung by rung.

Waiting until Dawn had clambered high enough for the backs of her knees to match the level of Rona's head, this warrior of the night also mounted the ladder. Closely monitoring Dawn's every careful motion, Rona took a moment to softly call upwards, "Dawnie, I'm right below you, so don't kick back with your feet, okay? I don't want your boots to hit my face, so just keep going slow and easy, like you're doing now." After saying this without receiving any acknowledgment from her companion, spoken or otherwise, the Slayer leaned to the side to catch a glimpse of Dawn's pale face overhead.

Moving robotically with identical deliberate movements by her limbs for every ladder rung, this Summers sister was fixedly gazing at the mast before her, refusing to look anywhere else during her unhurried progress. Not to the sides past the mast, down at Rona following after, or even directly above to her objective far and away. Most of all, she did _not_ think of how the ship's motion was making everything, including her own body, sway in all directions. At least that damned Sunnydale tower had stayed nice and still.

Rona started to offer some more encouragement, only to hastily decide against this. Dawn was doing just fine at this point, with there being no good reason to risk distracting the Key. Except for a quick glance to note that the sails on the rear mast were now shielding them from the guy at the steering wheel, Rona continued her watchful climb, patiently staying behind during the two women's protracted ascent.

Right hand up, hold on. Left foot up, and push. Left hand up, hold on. Right foot up, and push. Don't look anywhere but ahead.

Right hand up, hold on. Left foot up, and push. Left hand up, hold on. Right foot up, and push. Don't look anywhere but ahead.

And again, and again, and again-

Her right foot wouldn't move. Dawn tried lifting this repeated times, until the exasperatedly hissed words from beneath finally penetrated her concentration. Along with the sensation of the firm Slayer grip around her right ankle holding her in place.

"-Dawn, Dawn, dammit, pay attention! You made it! Look up already, before you bash your head!"

Startled out of her total preoccupation, Dawn unthinkingly glanced upwards, only to flinch at seeing just a few inches away the underside of the rectangular platform forming the bottom of the crow's nest for the _Black Pearl._ Her gaze also found the narrow opening created by the absence of a several planks closest to the mast carrying this lookout position perched just above the top of the rope ladder.

Rona also observed this, as shown by the Slayer then advising, "Okay, I'm gonna let go. You get through that hole and grab onto the mast. I'll wait down here until you're safe, and then I'll join you. Understand?"

Dawn just numbly nodded her head, and she made her cautious way up the topmost rungs of the ladder. Poking her head and shoulders up through what she didn't know was called the lubber's hole, Dawn thankfully saw the mast rising another ten feet or so through the planks of the crow's nest. A second set of diagonal lines were attached to the edges of the platform, with all of these ropes coming to an end at a metal collar just below the very tip of the mast.

It took the last of her courage, but Dawn managed to detach her right hand from the final rung, and she hurriedly reached out with this to clutch at the now-slender wooden column. Keeping a truly determined grip onto the pole, Dawn did the same thing with her left hand, and while desperately holding onto the mast, the rest of her torso came scrambling up and out from the gap. Curling herself onto the planks there, Dawn wrapped her entire body around the mast, staying on the far side from the lubber's hole. The young woman next started to pant heavily over what she'd just done, while also steadfastly squeezing shut her eyes to keep from seeing how high she was now.

Actually, doing the latter was the absolute right thing for her to perform at this point, since observing what then happened wouldn't have done the Key's already shredded nerves any good at all. Once she was satisfied her charge had made it safe and sound up there, Rona waited for the proper moment. This soon occurred, when the ship's pitching movement sent the mast leaning away from her. Judging everything to a nicety, the Slayer casually let go of the rope ladder as her body remained in a perpendicular position. Right after, superhuman leg muscles shoved downwards, and Rona shot straight up more than twenty feet in the air, past the crow's nest and the other unheeding New Council member sprawled onto the floor of this small platform. Effortlessly twisting her body in mid-air to snag with her right hand the very tip of the mainmast when this pole came sweeping back, Rona glanced down in the middle of her acrobatics.

Yeah, there was just enough room to stand there without stepping on Dawn, so the Slayer allowed herself a few horizontal one-handed spins around the mast, just for the sheer fun of it. Finally, with the same superb judgment, Rona lessened slightly her grip and these gleeful gymnastics finished with the black woman avoiding the crow's nest ascending lines to instead land lightly onto her feet atop the wooden planks. The tips of her boots were an inch or so from Dawn's head firmly pressed face-downwards there. Smirking at this, Rona now glanced around, and she froze in utter astonishment at what she'd at last noticed.

As for the Key, she just barely felt through the floorboards the faint thud of Rona's arrival. Lost in the misery of her severe acrophobia, Dawn ignored the other's silence for the next few minutes, until this Slayer announced in a genuinely awestruck tone, "Hey, Dawnie, you've got to see this! Just open your eyes, will you?"

It was clear Rona had finally lost it. There was _no_ way Dawn was going to do that, taking a gander from their spot all waaaaay high in the air. Keeping her eyelids firmly clenched shut, Joyce Summers' youngest daughter snarled out at length her refusal, adding to this various profane details in several human and demonic languages over exactly what torments should be inflicted upon Rona for even daring to suggest such a horrid thing.

"Not bad," Rona admiringly stated when Dawn finished, adding, "I especially liked the one about the cheesegrater and the spoonful of horseradish. Gotta try that on the next vamp who pisses me off. Now, move your butt! Just hold on to the pole and use it to pull yourself up. I'll stand behind you and hold on to, so you'll be safe inside my arms, with no chance of falling. But you _are_ gonna do it, or I'll start prodding you with my boot toe! Your big sis says you're really ticklish under the short ribs, so unless you get moving, I'm gonna see if she's right."

Inside her head, Dawn grumpily swore at Buffy over revealing her sibling's secret weakness. Rona would do it, too. Slayers had a tendency to use that identical tone in their threats when they really meant it. Reluctantly squirming around on the planks of the crow's nest during still keeping her single-minded clutch onto the mast, Dawn got up onto her knees while sliding her clenched hands along the weathered pole, and then she straightened up to stand there. As promised, Rona had pressed her body against Dawn's back to hold them both securely in the other woman's own grip onto the ship's mast. At no point in all these maneuvers had Dawn opened her eyes.

With a faint puff of air brushing at her left ear, a blind Dawn heard Rona reverently say, "It's just so…_beautiful._"

Now, that wasn't what she'd expected. In her sudden surprise, Dawn released her eyelids' closure, and she looked out into absolute grandeur.

Overhead, the full moon shone with utmost brilliance, casting a sheen of silvery light onto the entire surging ocean, reaching out hundreds of square miles around the _Black Pearl. _The famed pirate ship was leaving its own gleaming wake in the disturbed waters' phosphorescence. But most magnificent of all were the stars revealing themselves despite the powerful radiance of a glowing satellite.

In a time centuries before the Industrial Revolution began to pour into the night skies the pollution which would eventually dim from mankind's sight the multitude of suns out there in space, these innumerable stars were now clustered in the heavens above a sailing craft, glittering brightly enough to provide their own proud splendor. Yet, what truly put Dawn Summers and Rona Nichols into their enthrallment was how else nature had given them both a glorious gift tonight, in the sheer colors twinkling there from light-years away.

Icy blue, blood red, sullen orange, even a flash of violet…

The Slayer and the Key gazed up in companionable silence for an unknown while, until a whisper drifted through the air, as if anything louder would shatter the wonder of what they were seeing. "Hey, Dawnie, you feeling better?"

"Oh, my acrophobia, you mean? Funny, but it doesn't seem so important now."

"Great. You know, Willow didn't say in her book we had to do anything more, so we can leave and go on to the next challenge."

"You're right, we should do that."

The pair of young women kept on looking at perfect glory, while the crow's nest swung in its grand gyrations.

"…fifteen more minutes, Rona?"

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

Author's Note: As far as I know, there's no canon reference for Rona's last name, nor have I seen any accepted usage in BtVS fanfiction. In that case, I've decided to refer to this Slayer as 'Rona Nichols' in homage to the actress Indigo who played her on the show, since this woman's own real name is Alyssa Ashley Nichols. The same will be done for the other Slayers in this series who were never given last names in the tv episodes.


	5. Uncle By Courtesy Only

Flinching a little when his surroundings abruptly changed from an indoor conference room into a quadrangle outside under a late afternoon sun, Xander recoiled even more at Kennedy lunging forward to yank out of his hands the small book he'd been holding. The one-eyed man quickly recovered from his start, frowning at the Slayer glaring back at him. Only to have her begin snapping irritably at him first, "What the hell were you thinking, doing that right off without even warning me?"

Xander felt his teeth clamp together, jaw muscles flexing in annoyance all the while. He gritted back at the fuming woman standing in front of him in their argument, "Wils said there's a time limit, and we have to beat the others! Pardon me for trying to outrun them!"

"Outrun everybody to…" angrily began Kennedy, only to trail off in her sudden puzzlement. She looked around while delivered a baffled, "…where?"

Her game partner's antagonism suddenly evaporated in his own confusion. He joined Kennedy in their hasty examination of where they'd been transported into, which was likely another dimension. Both of the New Council members saw on all four sides of them a set of fairly old brick buildings. These one- and two-story structures with numerous windows gave off a vaguely institutional air. Not like any kind of factory or industrial area, but rather an office or some educational center. These buildings overlooked a small, park-like plaza currently deserted save for Xander and Kennedy.

This pair continued to glance around at the tastefully landscaped location having mature trees, flowerbeds, some benches, and concrete sidewalks connecting the opposite buildings across a lush central lawn. At length, the Slayer absently mentioned to Xander at her side, "You got any idea yet? I sure don't."

A former Sunnydale resident just shrugged. His remaining eye watchfully scanned the peaceful environs, so unlike his now-gone hometown. Xander finally pointed out, "Wils sprung her little scavenger hunt on me without any warning at all, like everyone else at the castle. Didn't _you_ pick up anything from her, earlier?"

Kennedy sharply glanced at the man besides her, trying to figure out if this was some kind of crack about her long-term relationship with a redheaded witch. Deciding for now to accept the question as perfectly innocent, the lesbian impatiently shook her head. "She never mentioned it to me. Though, I was away for the last week, doing a complete patrol sweep of Edinburgh with the Slayer House there. That must've been when she was setting it up."

Xander nodded in reluctant acceptance, until in the middle of this, he excitedly snapped his fingers. Whirling around, he pointed at Kennedy-

No, the Slayer realized, at the book she'd taken away from Xander a moment ago and was still gripping in her right hand. Glancing down at this small tome, she heard her companion triumphantly declare, "Check that! Wils told us she put in there what we were supposed to do, remember?"

"Right," grudgingly acknowledged Kennedy. She flipped open this magical book, and brought it up at face level to read in there:

_Your mission, should you chose to accept it, is to search the campus and find Uncle Duke from Garry Trudeau's Doonesbury comic strip. He's there as a guest speaker, and once you locate him, you both need to have your picture taken with this incorrigible scoundrel by the other. Have fun!_

Xander waited for Kennedy to react to whatever she'd just perused, but he didn't expect this Slayer to abruptly guffaw, and then continue whooping with laughter while wrapping a pair of arms around herself in sheer delight. Now truly curious, the man edged nearer the warrior woman, until he got close enough to risk a grab at the book pressed against Kennedy's upper left arm.

He really should've known better, what with being around Slayers ever since Sunnydale High. An instant later, Kennedy landed lightly on her feet several yards away from Xander, after leaping away from his utterly ineffective attempt to snatch the book back. Instead, she teasingly held it out at arm-level straight at him, a wicked smirk on her face. Glowering at the taunting woman, Xander trudged over, fully expecting another round of keep-away.

Oddly enough, this didn't happen. Kennedy allowed Xander to take the book from her fingers, though she maintained on her beautiful features an impish grin all the while. This mischievous expression shortly shifted into a disbelieving gape at Xander then immediately doing _his_ own loud roar of mirth. She continued to watch in astonishment at Xander still chortling after reading what they were supposed to do in this dimension. Which, from the sounds of things, apparently contained the real-life cast of Doonesbury, a newspaper comic strip which had been wryly skewering American social and political life for decades.

Finally giving into her curiosity, Kennedy reached out to prod Xander's chest to get his attention. She made sure to add a little extra Slayer strength in this. Staggering back a few steps, the man wearing an eyepatch didn't seem to mind all that much, grinning at an exasperated lesbian. Kennedy then demanded of him, "What's so funny? You better not be dissing my favorite character from that strip!"

Now, it was Xander's turn to be startled. He gawked at the annoyed woman, only to incredulously declare in return, "No, I'm not! Hey, I really like it too, and Uncle Duke's the one I enjoy the most!"

Both Kennedy and Xander gazed at each other in surprise. Which, after several moments of this shared astonishment, slowly changed into growing suspicion. Xander was the first to speak, warily mentioning, "Wils knows I'm an Uncle Duke fan, ever since junior high. How about you?"

Her eyes narrowing in remembrance over a certain bedtime discussion, Kennedy curtly nodded, adding, "Ever since the Reagan years, that strip pissed off my parents, and I couldn't resist checking out anything which made them so mad. I didn't understand a lot of it to start with, but Uncle Duke grew on me. He's a real survivor, and someone who just doesn't care what everybody thinks about him. I could get into that, growing up."

"And Wils found this out, right?" mused Xander, pensively eyeing the Slayer.

Beginning to feel a little uncomfortable under the man's unwavering stare, Kennedy admitted, "Yeah, if only to explain why I have my subscribed hometown paper air-mailed to me at the castle. She never mentioned it again…the little brat!"

Instead of being offended at hearing his lifelong friend described in such an unflattering way, Xander merely gave Kennedy a tight smile. He then held up the small book containing this same witch's instructions, to remark, "Well, I guess we'll both have something to say to her when we get back. For now, let's do what Wils told us. One thing I know, anything she put down has to be important."

"That's true," agreed Kennedy, tilting her head in thought. She pursed her lips, before suggesting, "The book doesn't say exactly where Uncle Duke is. Just that we're on a college or university campus, and he's going to speak here. I think I remember some strips about that. Anyway, let's look for some kind of auditorium or lecture hall. The guy might be there already, or maybe someone knows where he is. Or, we can just wait until Duke gets there, and finish up quick our challenge by having our pictures taken with him right away."

"Good plan," praised Xander. He next asked, "You got the camera?"

In response, Kennedy tapped the lump in her front pants pocket where she'd shoved the recorder just after arriving here. A sudden thought occurred to her, causing the Slayer to hand over the book to Xander. She told the startled man, "Keep this. Okay, any ideas where to go first?"

Tucking away the book into his own pocket, Xander glanced again around the quadrangle with its school buildings. Shrugging, he mentioned, "One direction's as good as any. There'll probably be a sign with a map somewhere to help guide visitors; let's find it."

Fifteen minutes later, Xander and Kennedy peered through the locked main glass doors of the located auditorium into an empty foyer beyond the shut entrance. Standing together outside the large building, the Slayer glanced to her left. With her superhuman eyesight, she easily saw the handwritten sign taped inside the window of the closed ticket office. Reading out loud to her game partner, Kennedy recited, "Today at seven p.m., former Ambassador Duke will appear on his tour giving details of his experiences in China. Open to all."

She glanced at Xander trying the door again. "What do you think? Wait here for it to start, or find somewhere to eat?"

"The clock tower we passed said four-twenty," absently remarked Xander, stepping away from the door to eye Kennedy. "That'll take a good chunk of game time. Why don't we check the back? Maybe there's somebody there, or possibly an open door or window…" A very evil smile lifted the corners of the man's mouth.

Kennedy had her own fiendish grin going, as she contributed, "Yeah, we can't be blamed if someone a lot stronger than normal accidentally jumps up two stories or finds some other way to get in…"

Soon enough, after their successful break-in, they were again at the glass doors, only this time on the other side. In the lower floor of the auditorium, Kennedy looked up at the ceiling of the foyer, and she quietly whispered to her companion, "There's people there. Two of 'em, I think. Can't hear anything else."

Xander looked around, and he spotted against a side wall a staircase to the second floor. Heading at once to this, Kennedy was right behind him. Trotting upwards, the pair paused at the head of the stairs, with the Slayer pointing over the man's shoulder at the door marked 'Private - No Admittance.'

Naturally, that didn't stop either of them from slipping through this luckily unlocked door, with Kennedy carefully closing it behind herself. Rejoining Xander waiting for her, the game partners then walked down the inside corridor having several doors along this hallway. Just after Kennedy hissed warningly under her breath, one of these doors opened. A mature woman with half-spectacles, grey hair, and a drab dress bustled out of the guest lounge leading off the corridor. Possessing a supremely harassed expression, this stranger who couldn't be anything but a faculty administrative assistant saw from the corner of her eye the other two people in the hallway.

Stopping dead in her tracks, the older woman turned her head to stare in surprise at the young pair who'd also halted a few feet away. "What're you doing here?" frowned this lady at whom she presumed were trespassing college students. "The lecture isn't until later-"

"We need to meet Mr. Duke," broke in Kennedy, trying and failing to peek past the other lady standing in front of the lounge doorway. Even if she couldn't directly catch a glimpse of anyone else inside, her Slayer senses were telling Kennedy a guy was definitely occupying that room. Her heightened ears and nose also helpfully contributed the information this unknown person was staying put, slowly breathing, and judging from the smells wafting from there, he had on him enough pharmaceuticals to stock his own drugstore.

A rather apprehensive air was immediately developed by the college assistant over hearing that, but then she distractedly declared, "Mr. Duke is not…available, I'm afraid. You'll just have to wait until after the lecture, like anyone else…" The mature woman trailed off, with another anxious look taking its place on her face, as if she was having serious doubts this would actually happen.

Before Kennedy could argue further, Xander contributed his own assertion on the need to hold an immediate discussion with a former U.S. Ambassador to China. In true Scooby Gang fashion, as a matter of fact.

Basically, the one-eyed man's left arm was unexpectedly draped around Kennedy's shoulders, and he pulled the stunned Slayer against his left side in a caring hug. All while glaring at the older lady as he loudly threatened, "I wanna see that sonofabitch right _now,_ so he can tell me straight to my face what he's gonna do about getting my sister here pregnant!"

The nervous smile presently flitting upon the college assistant's countenance congealed into real horror. Her mouth opening and closing with shock, this paling female finally blurted out, "Uh, excuse me! I have to…to…powder my nose! Don't let me bother you…"

Avoiding the eyes of the pair of young people standing before her, the assistant frantically edged past them. Once in the clear, she sprinted down the corridor to the door leading to the staircase. Hopefully, by the time it was safe to come back (which was as long as she could manage to hide in the downstairs restroom), the unpleasant scene about to happen in Mr. Duke's room would be over and done with, and no further business of hers.

For a few moments more after the corridor door slammed shut, Xander continued to sadistically snicker. His giggles abruptly changed into a whimper of authentic agony at his wrist feeling as if it'd just been clamped into a bone-crushing vise. The man then dropped to his knees on the hallway linoleum, tears appearing in his remaining eye while he looked up into a terrifying visage.

This was all due to Kennedy still in Xander's brotherly embrace reaching up and across her body to daintily pinch her right thumb and forefinger around the sides of her companion's wrist resting on her left shoulder. Exerting just a fraction of her Slayer strength with these slim digits which could effortlessly bend in half a quarter coin, Kennedy smoothly extricated herself. Turning around in a half circle during her continuous grip onto Xander's wrist, she watched this idiot collapse onto the floor. When Xander stared into Kennedy's thunderous face, she snarled down at him, "You really like living dangerously, don't you?"

Even in actual pain, Xander had to rise to the occasion. Smirking through his tears at the warrior woman appearing as if she was about to render him into his component parts any second now, he managed, "Nah, dangerous would've been saying you were my _underage_ sister."

The world held its breath.

Kennedy blinked once at what Xander had just said, with an air of absolute calm next descending upon her. Standing there frozen for an endless moment, the Slayer then had the corner of her tightly-compressed lips…twitch.

Xander let his own mouth widen into a triumphant grin. "Yeah, _that_ word would've made the lady just here leave ten times faster! Maybe with a sonic boom too-"

"Oh, shut up, Xander," amiably stated Kennedy, letting go of his wrist. Taking a step back, she watched her insane game partner get back up on his feet, nonchalantly rubbing at his wrist, and then wiping at his sole eye to rub away the bit of moisture there. When Xander finished off this performance by giving her his most hangdog look in an evident play for sympathy, Kennedy merely rolled her own eyes and jerked a thumb in the direction of the open doorway. This was followed by a brisk feminine, "Now that you got rid of her, let's see if Uncle Duke's really in there, and get done with our business. If we can."

Cocking an eyebrow, Xander followed Kennedy into the lounge, asking a bit bemusedly along the way, "Why would that be a probl- Oh."

Seated in an armchair facing the lounge's second story front window showing an Ivy League college landscape, Raoul Duke, former Governor of American Samoa, former China ambassador, former Biafran mercenary ("It was just for the summer") was at present seriously comatose. Slumped back in his chair, this man had definitely made sure of this. It was all due to his last college lecture appearance a week ago at another university. A slight error during his normal consumption of a staggering level of illegal substances had resulted in his pill-taking producing severe hallucinations. Like, for instance, seeing everyone around him as a sheep.

Big, human-sized, sheep with fluffy white wool and standing upright on their rear hooves, all of them speaking to him in an annoying, "Bleat! Bleat! Bleat!"

Well, that wouldn't happen tonight. This time, he'd taken the yellow pill _first._

His eyes tightly closed behind ever-present sunglasses, Duke heard from somewhere in his stupor a nearby masculine voice happily say, "Wow, he really does look like Hunter Thompson!"

"Got to agree with you," came in a very wry tone, this time delivered in a feminine intonation by someone the same age as the first speaker. Whoever this young woman was, she went on to order, "Okay, I think the best angle for the camera is for you to sit by the chair. You want the right side or left side?"

Hmmm… It appeared as if somebody was about to take blackmail photos of him. They could just get in line, behind all the others. Honestly, if he'd never paid anyone else a penny, what chance did those two strangers out there think they had, anyway?

Still determinedly clinging to his tablet-induced trance, Duke nevertheless felt a faint tug on his right arm, along with the first voice announcing, "Start off with me looking like we're best buddies, our arms over each other's shoulders. You ready?"

"Yeah, in three. One-two-three!"

"Hi, guys! Ol' Xander here, and guess who else? Right, nobody but the one and only Uncle Duke! Courtesy of Willow-express, me and Kennedy found him, and as you can see, we're having a real nice visit with a guy floating around on his own personal cloud nine inside his head. That's why we can't have him say hello to you all, but I still have to say, it's a honor to be in his company! So, Wils, thanks for this, and we'll be having a little chat about the whole thing later, you betcha. Okay, Ken, you're up."

Duke suffered once more through another couple of minutes of incomprehensible babble, wishing they'd just go away. It soon sounded as if this would occur, until the unknown woman declared, "I don't know, Xander. It doesn't feel like enough, considering I'll probably never be able to do this again."

"So, what do you have in mind?" asked a very amused man. "Get his autograph? Even if he wakes up right now fairly sober, I've got a feeling he couldn't put down anything better than 'With briv glizk, Untjo Dyqle', Ken doll."

"Ha, ha," sarcastically snickered the woman, who went on in a more thoughtful tone, "Still a souvenir couldn't hurt…"

A vaguely alarmed Duke then felt his sunglasses being removed from his face. At this, the man out there gleefully cackled, "Thatta girl, Kennedy! In the last fifteen minutes, you've done breaking and entering, trespassing, lying, and now actual theft! Can't let you outdo an original Scooby, so let me have a look around, too."

With an enormous effort, Duke lifted his right eyelid a crack, to then observe through this slit standing before him, an…angel and a devil.

There was no possibility of a mistake, what with the angel having the usual hackneyed accouterments of a halo, glowing-bright wings spreading out from his back, and a flowing robe. True, there was the rather unusual detail of this angel's robe differing from the standard pure white shade to instead showing off eye-searing tropical colors and designs much more common to that article of clothing known as the Hawaiian shirt.

The guy's eyepatch was pretty strange, too.

Swiveling his gaze past the heavenly being rooting around in his opened suitcase, Duke vacantly stared at the female devil with the bright red skin, brunette hair, tiny horns at the corners of her forehead, and a long, forked tail. All of this was plain to see, since she wasn't wearing anything but a large rainbow ribbon, looped so the top covered her breasts and the area where the cloth crossed was discreetly located at her crotch. At the moment, this demonic creature was casually twirling his sunglasses by one earpiece while she watched her counterpart whoop in delight at producing his latest discovery from the rest of Duke's property.

Proudly waving one of the insensible man's cigarette holders, the angel announced, "Now, this is one hell of a memento! He's the most famous guy since Roosevelt to show off one of these! You ready to go now, Kennedy?"

The devil nodded.

"Me, too. Hold on a sec," one of God's anointed responded. He fumbled in among his robes, only to produce from out of there an actual set of the Ten Commandments. These inscribed stone slabs appeared to have been taken directly out of Charlton Heston's hands. With a casual tug on the words of the Lord, both the angel and the devil then instantly vanished into thin air.

For the next several minutes, Duke simply stared straight ahead at a now-empty lounge. Finally, his dry lips opened for the newspaper comic strip character to croak out to nobody in particular:

"Tomorrow, take the _blue_ pill first."


	6. Everybody Comes To Rick's

"You look good in a tux, Mr. Giles," Vi the Slayer admiringly complimented her companion.

Smiling at the young woman walking by his side in her own exquisite blue evening gown, a well-dressed Briton still gently corrected her, "Please call me Giles, if you don't mind, Violet. There's really no need for us to be formal with each other tonight. Not when we're in another dimension entirely, and about to enter that place." The man then nodded at the Moroccan building they were walking towards, where a bright neon sign mounted above the front entrance displayed for the public a very famous name: _Rick's Café Américain_

"Okay then, but you've got to call me Vi. I've never really liked being named after a color or flower," absently responded his game partner. As seen by the look of genuine wonder on Vi's face while she stared further on, most of her attention was presently directed ahead at someplace she'd never dreamed it was possible for her to ever visit. This disbelief then came rushing out in the Slayer's incredulous declaration, "I still can't believe we're in the movie _Casablanca_ and about to set foot in _there!_"

Continuing their pleasant stroll together, Giles genially pointed out to the girl staying in step with him, "There's a multiplicity of dimensions which can be reached by those with sufficient mystical ability, as Willow just demonstrated. In these realities, _anything_ humanly conceivable has happened, is happening, or will happen. A fictional setting of night-time entertainment is hardly the most unbelievable thing to stumble across, er, Vi."

"Who cares? The woman's mouth widened into a delighted smile matching the happy sparkle in her eyes. She giggled, "I've loved that movie with Bogart and Berman and Rains and Lorre and Greenstreet and all those other wonderful characters as long as I can remember! And now, I'm going to see them in real life and at close range, instead of just on a movie screen or television!"

Giles allowed himself a deep chuckle. He gladly confided to his companion, who'd turned her head to look up at the man in his white tuxedo and black bow tie, "I feel the same, rather. It's always been one of my own personal favorites also."

The older of the pair now glanced down at Vi vigorously nodding in cheerful agreement. He cleared his throat with an evident note of caution in his tone, and warned her, "Do keep in mind we're not here to sightsee. I'm not sure if our mere presence will alter any events which comprise the entire film. This isn't likely, or Willow wouldn't have risked it. Still, actually meddling or unwisely interacting with the cast of that cinematic masterpiece should be avoided as much as possible."

Her pretty face suddenly thoughtful, Vi insisted, "But Willow meant for us to do something here! It's right in her book!" She touched her small, beaded purse dangling by its strap from her shoulder. This handbag now contained the tremendously powerful magical object which had not only transported the New Council members into an entirely different dimension, it'd also transformed their regular clothes into the correct formal garments for the early years of World War II.

Speaking of this, Giles made another quick check of his inner jacket pocket, where he'd securely lodged the other enchanted item collected by the pair before beginning what a happy witch had called today the Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt. Even with a certain pickpocket on the loose in the area, this video camera should be quite safe and sound in there. Turning his attention back to Vi waiting for him to respond to what she'd just mentioned, Giles dryly replied, "It's a bit vague, don't you think? We're supposed to, and I quote, 'Remove what shouldn't be there in Sam's piano.' That doesn't ring any kind of bell for me, I have to confess."

"It could be the letters of transit!" Vi excitedly countered. She went on at Giles' blank expression, "You know, the travel papers Rick hid in there after Ugarte got killed!"

"We don't know yet exactly at what point we're in the film, so they might not be there in the first place," argued Giles. He added, "Besides, since Victor Laszlo and his wife Ilsa used these to escape together from Casablanca at the ending, taking those items now would surely change things in the move to an extreme degree."

Vi shrugged, her white shoulders bared in her strapless gown, before conceding, "Okay, you've got a point. Why don't we just see how things go? Look around in there a few minutes and maybe we'll come up with something then. Does that sound good?"

"Absolutely," beamed Giles at his companion. Pausing in his stride, he extended his left elbow to where a puzzled Vi had also halted. Waving his other hand at the entrance of their destination only several yards ahead, where Abdul the doorman was awaiting them, the Englishman gallantly offered, "Shall we?"

Grinning from ear to ear, Vi slipped her gloved right arm through the crook of her partner's elbow, and together the Watcher and the Slayer entered Rick's Café Américain.

However, a near-calamity then occurred when they were only several steps inside the nightclub's foyer. Vi abruptly sneezed.

It wasn't a dainty, single sneeze. No, this sudden expelling of air through her nose was instead a continuous series of honking blasts, which turned the heads of several other patrons nearby in astonishment at such rude, loud noises. Hastily following his Slayer staggering back and against the foyer's side wall, Giles made a quick reach for his shirtfront handkerchief and pulled it out, clapping this into Vi's groping hand.

The young woman just as speedily buried her face into the opened cloth, and she let out one more immense nasal explosion, with welcome silence after that. Cautiously waiting until she was sure it was over, Vi bunched up the handkerchief in her fingers, and she daubed at her streaming eyes. Eventually, Vi sighed with relief, and she glanced up at her concerned companion.

Standing to make sure the young woman was shielded from any possible onlookers, Giles worriedly asked, "Are you all right, Vi?"

Wryly nodding while stuffing the handkerchief into her purse, Vi told Giles, "Yeah, I'm fine now, once I got used to it. How can people _breathe_ in there?" A jerk of her thumb at the main dining room ahead indicated what she was talking about.

A very puzzled Englishman stared at the bustling room filled with people at their tables, where among the extremely hazy air, they were talking and eating and drinking- Oh. And _smoking_ too, producing such a high level of indoor pollution which Giles hadn't himself encountered for decades. Not since being a young student in London long before any anti-cigarette campaigns. Knowing full well how sensitive a Slayer's nose was, the Director of the New Council inwardly winced, and he began a swift apology. "I'm truly sorry, Vi-"

The shake of this woman's head cut him off, along with her ruefully delivering, "Not your fault, Giles. I mean, I saw everybody smoking in the film, too! I should've expected it. But, we got a bigger problem."

At those last words, Vi pointed past Giles, who turned to gaze again at the dining room. He wasn't sure what he should be looking for this time, until he saw what his game partner had spotted.

Namely, the upright piano in the middle of the room entirely surrounded by a crowd of happy nightclub patrons. Each and every one of them a potential witness to any investigation by a pair of dimensional travelers attempting to discreetly remove whatever might be hidden inside this musical instrument.

"Dear Lord," was gloomily uttered by Giles.

"Yeah," contributed Vi in her similar depressed tone. She half-heartedly patted at her face before suggesting to the man at her side, "Look, I'm gonna find the ladies' and fix my makeup and hair. Why don't you hit the bar? You can keep an eye on the piano and try to come up with something to get Willow's challenge done. I'll meet you there."

"Very well," Giles agreed. The pair then parted to make their separate ways through the nightclub. It ended with Giles patiently moving among the crowd, until he wound up at his destination. Standing by the bar's counter while glancing around, the man's notice was again caught by their whole reason for being here, and he frowned at the piano. Perhaps he and Violet- *_Vi,_* mentally corrected the possessor himself of an outdated first name which had given him a lifelong sullen grudge against both the nephew of King Charles I and the creator of an anthropomorphic ursine.

Starting all over again in his head, Giles contemplated simply waiting until the nightclub closed and then conducting a spot of burglary with his Slayer. Letting his gaze pass over the convivial throng filling up the room, the mature man had to reluctantly discard this idea. From the looks of things, it'd be a great while yet until last call, and they just didn't have the time. Not when he and Vi surely had many more challenges to meet in Willow's rather ridiculous game. Mind you, even if he'd become involved in this blasted scavenger hunt solely because the others back in the castle had, all his competitive urges were against admitting defeat in the first bloody round! No, they could afford to spend a few moments to come up with some sort of scheme-

"What will you have, sir?"

Blinking at this thickly-accented voice suddenly coming from behind him, Giles turned around, and froze. He stared in absolute shock at the very familiar bartender expectantly looking back at him. Both men neither moved nor spoke for the next several moments.

Finally becoming impatient, Sascha opened his mouth to repeat his question, this time in French. However, the Russian émigré received a hasty order from his latest customer who seemed to have already started his drinking far too early, "A dry martini with lemon, please."

"Da, da," cheerfully acknowledged the bartender, getting busy behind the counter with his bottles and glasses. During his mixing of the drink, he ignored the other man taking out his wallet while still sneaking a fascinated glance at someone who in another dimension was an actor named Leonid Kinskey. In his daze at actually running across a _Casablanca_ character, Giles barely noticed he seemed to have plenty of money in his wallet, no doubt due to Willow's foresight. He absently selected an American dollar bill.

Paying for his drink, Giles took a cautious sip from it. He speedily appreciated the bite of the expertly-made cocktail, nodding in approval at Sascha who amiably took this as his proper due. Going off to serve some other waiting customers, the bartender left behind Giles actually beginning to enjoy himself. Continuing to imbibe, the Englishman turned around to lean against the bar. He started to closely scrutinize the nightclub crowd, trying to see if there were any more recognizable characters from the movie in there.

Regrettably, after a few minutes of this, the only person he could positively identify from the Warner Brothers film was Carl the waiter. Several others around the room looked vaguely familiar, but Giles wasn't all that much of an expert concerning the movie to instantly name them. One thing was certain, none of the main characters were presently around. Besides his actual disappointment at not being able to see at first hand such cinematic stars as Humphrey Bogart and the rest of them in their legendary roles, Giles analytically noted to himself that this meant it was still unknown as to precisely when he and Vi were in the movie-

Again taking him by surprise, a nearby woman's enthusiastic voice now whispered to the side of his head, "Giles, do you have any- Eeep!"

Flinching while lifting a hand to rub at his left ear where a gush of words had unexpectedly turned into a stifled yelp, Giles turned to see Vi back again. She was standing besides him while gawking in awe further down the bar, at where Sascha was thoroughly polishing a glass. This other man presumably noticed Vi's stare from out of the corner of his own eye, and he glanced over, to at once deliver a supremely lecherous grin towards the very pretty girl sizing him up.

"Yes, it's him," dryly stated Giles when Vi showed no signs of tearing her rapt gaze away from the preening Russian. The New Council Director prompted, "Was there something you wanted, Vi?"

"Oh," managed Vi, finally wrenching her attention away from Sascha, who himself reluctantly got back to work serving another customer. She looked up into the sardonic face of her boss, flushing slightly at his expression of mild amusement, before trying again. "Listen, I've got a plan. I'll distract everybody, and during that, you can get to the piano and take out whatever Willow told us to find in there. But, I need more money than I already have in my purse. You got any?"

Beginning to reach for his wallet, Giles stopped short to frown at the eager Slayer. He warily said, "You mean, cause a diversion? How, exactly?"

Vi looked across the main nightclub area to the section in the back, where small groups of men and women dressed in their best were clustered around several tables. "That's the gambling spot. I show up there, blow all my money at some game, and go into total hysterics about losing every penny I have. That should grab their attention, right?"

"Er, perhaps," replied a doubtful Giles. At Vi's sudden pout, the former high-school librarian admitted, "I haven't had the chance to come up with anything better than that. We might not have the time, either. It doesn't appear right now if the film is at an important part of the story, but this might change at a moment's notice. So, I suppose we may as well as try your plan, Vi. If it doesn't work, let's meet outside by the front door, and we'll discuss what to attempt next."

"Okay," Vi happily agreed. She added, "You do the same thing if you get your hands on what's inside the piano. Stay there outside until I find you again. Now, fork over the cash."

Giving his Slayer a very austere stare, Giles nevertheless took out his wallet and he opened it up. Gazing down into the wad of money revealed there, he began, "I think a hundred dollars should be sufficient- _Hullo!_"

This last indignant British bleat was produced by Vi calmly snatching with a swift hand virtually every bit of the currency Giles formerly possessed in his wallet. Sending an evil smirk upwards into Giles' outraged face, Vi sashayed off into the direction of the gambling room, triumphantly riffling through the bills in her fingers.

"Women, hah?" someone sympathetically uttered from behind Giles. Still holding his nearly empty wallet, Giles turned to see behind the counter Sascha bestowing upon him a compassionate look.

In response to this, the now-glum Englishman merely sighed, took out the last lonely dollar bill from his wallet, and ordered, "Another dry martini, please. And make it a double."

Clutching at her handful of chips exchanged for Giles' money, Vi eagerly looked for the best place in the gambling den to completely fritter away her sugar daddy's hard-earned loot and then stage an Oscar-worthy meltdown due to this. She needed something simple and fast, not to mention a sure guarantee of losing every cent- Oh, yeah, there it was!

Determinedly using her sharp elbows to make her way through the crowd at one particular spot, Vi soon found herself at the edge of the roulette table. Catching the eye of an all-too-familiar croupier, the Slayer took a moment to recover from who he was. Stifling a happy grin, she then slammed down her chips on the table, and loudly declared in her brashest American accent, "Put 'em all on number seven!"

With an accepting shrug of his shoulders, Emil took the bet, and he glanced around the roulette table for anybody else about to wager. Seeing no other takers, expert fingers released a little white ball, and this orb began its circular path, racing round and round a spinning wheel. Vi barely noticed this. Instead, she was peering through the crowd, trying to see where Giles was. Great! He'd left the bar and was now by the piano, seemingly paying no attention to anything but his drink-

"An interesting choice for your venture, young lady. I sense you have a willingness to take risks. This may lead to many pleasant experiences for you in the future, hmmm?"

Startled at the purring, French-accented voice coming from her right side, Vi automatically glanced there. This woman looked directly into the amused eyes of Captain Renault.

Trying not to faint on the spot, Vi jerkily nodded back to the genially corrupt character portrayed by Claude Rains. Dapperly clad in his police uniform, this man held out a polite hand. Unable to avoid it, Vi did the same. She then watched in sheer astonished glee when her latest acquaintance bent over and brushed his lips against her fingers! From the feel of her mouth, the Slayer knew she was stupidly grinning, particularly since Mr. Smooth over there, who'd now straightened up and had gently released her hand, was at the moment watching her in a very bemused way.

Everyone's attention at the table was then distracted by the firm announcement of "Seven!" from Emil the croupier. Snapping her head around in astonished horror, Vi saw her chips lying on the table be joined by numerous other chips pushed towards her own pile of gambling tokens. She'd just increased her stake to thirty-five times the original bet! Which was exactly the wrong thing to do, since nobody would buy her crying act over something so lucky! Frantically considering, Vi burst out with the only thing she could come up with: "Let it ride!"

Emil actually blinked at this. Among the shocked murmurs of the thickening crowd clustered by the roulette table, he cautiously asked, "Are you quite sure, madame?"

Vi tried to see if Giles was still ready, only to fail at this due to all the people around her. With there being nothing else she could do, Vi speechlessly nodded. The crowd now watched an unsmiling Emil start things again. The soft whisper of a white ball tracing its course upon a turning wheel was the only sound at the table. Until, a harsh voice rasped through the nightclub air with its questions and demands:

"Renault, why are you wasting your time with this? You should be out in the city with your men, doing your proper duty!"

Feeling much too numb for words, Vi looked to her left, where someone had just shoved their way up to the table. Sure enough, Major Strasser was glaring over her head at a deadpan Captain Renault on the woman's other side. Before the Frenchman could answer his detested associate, everybody in the gambling den then heard from an unbelieving croupier, "Seven!"

A loud cheer erupted from those among Vi at her incredible triumph, forcing the Slayer to instantly come up with an entirely new plan on the spot. Inwardly praying Giles would recognize his cue, the young woman took in the deepest breath that her lungs could manage. Looking up at where a Nazi officer was superciliously sneering down at her, Vi bellowed with full superhuman volume right into this villain's face, "HEY, YOU BIG JERK, JUST BECAUSE I GOT LUCKY, IT DON'T MEAN YOU WILL TOO! TAKE YOUR DAMN HAND OFF MY ASS!"

In the meantime, Giles had been gazing with increasing perplexity at the events taking place beyond in the gambling den. He'd soon lost sight of Vi, what with other people from the main nightclub area drifting over there. However, just like everyone else in the entire room, he heard the roar of approval from that location. Along with what came next, which was a very familiar voice deafening them all with her overpowering accusation of someone's impropriety.

The entire nightclub then saw a stunned German officer being lifted over the heads of all there around the gambling table. This was done by slim hands which had clutched the front of his uniform, and then used this grip to effortlessly hoist him up high, his boots helplessly kicking far above the floor. Right after this, Major Strasser was vigorously shaken back and forth, to the accompaniment of a woman further yelling, "YOU BASTARD, I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MESS WITH ME!"

At once deciding they definitely had to see this up close, everyone - the diners at their tables, the orchestra, and the rest of the staff (led by an eager Sascha jumping over the bar counter) - rushed towards the far end of the nightclub. This left behind a single man remaining by the piano while wearily rubbing at his forehead.

Staring at the backs of the packed crowd before him, with many of these people standing on tiptoe to see what was happening beyond, Giles sighed and he put down his half-finished drink on the piano's keyboard cover. Using one hand to raise the top lid for the rectangular section of the music instrument's vertical strings, a hasty grope was made inside by Giles' other hand.

Glancing around to see if he'd caught anyone's attention during this, Giles felt his searching fingers within the piano brush up against…cloth? His sudden puzzlement at this odd sensation was rudely interrupted by the loud crash coming from the gambling den. Apparently, Major Strasser had just taken a short flight through the air, followed by an appreciative audience's cheers. It was easy enough to deduce Vi had a moment ago hurled away that detestable man. So, it was best for him to at once remove this mysterious object inside the piano, and leave with it as quickly as possible before things became even more ridiculous.

Lifting the piano's upper lid all the way back to leave it there, Giles reached in with both hands. He grabbed some sort of fabric-wrapped cylinder a bit bigger than a loaf of bread. It was surprisingly heavy, but there wasn't any time to investigate exactly what he'd just pulled out of the piano. A hasty juggle of his weighty burden left it being carried in the crook of one arm while the piano's lid was put down again, and then a brisk walk had him out and away from the dining room. The front entrance was deserted, indicating the doorman had also left his position to see the show Vi provided, so there wasn't any problem with leaving the nightclub. As for his Slayer, she could quite well look after herself.

Indeed, when Rick Blaine hurriedly descended by the stairs from his private quarters on the second floor, his presence urgently required by the near-riot which had just ended in his nightclub, the first thing he saw was a pretty girl triumphantly stalking down the main corridor towards him. This young lady's gleeful grin was surely the result of the overflowing double armful of casino chips she was holding against her chest. That lucky female didn't seem to mind the fact she was also dropping to the floor a steady stream of valuable gambling tokens after herself at every bouncing step.

Meeting a nightclub owner's dumbfounded gaze, the unknown woman's smile grew even wider. When she came right up to him standing there in astonishment, nothing was said by her to Rick. Instead, the strange lady then gave him the most brazen wink he'd ever received, a true Warner Brothers tough-broad salutation.

Too bewildered to react, Rick could only look after the girl passing him by with the clatter of falling casino chips following after her. A very familiar chuckle made Rick turn his head around, to then see Captain Renault strolling in turn along the corridor. This Frenchman's face was set in an expression of absolute contentment, which matched his next words, "Ah, Rick, my fine friend, I truly look forward to visiting your country someday. My willingness for this has only increased at learning tonight that American woman are far more dangerous than American men."

"What the hell are you blathering about?" growled Rick, becoming fed up with his so-called pal's evident amusement.

Rick's sudden bad mood wasn't improved at all by receiving a very kind pat on his shoulder from Renault. The on-the-take policeman then declared in his most affable tone, "Let's go upstairs to your rooms, and we'll discuss this over your best bottle of Napoleon brandy there. You'll find the whole story most fascinating, I'm sure."

Giving Renault his most disbelieving fish-eye, Rick nevertheless turned to the steps. Muttering over his shoulder at the shorter man following after, Rick said tersely, "Okay, let's talk, but no booze. You can get enough free drinks away from here, and I don't have a bottle of brandy, anyway."

From behind, Rick heard an expressive sniff of total incredulity. "Oh, please. After so many times we've searched your business, I know the vintage and cellar of every bit of liquor you possess. In case you've forgotten - for which I forgive you in advance - the brandy's hidden at the back of the left lower drawer in your desk."

Several minutes later, there was another, lower-voiced conversation taking place in a noisome alley off the street leading to a certain nightclub:

"Vi, why on earth are you putting them in the book? There's no way they can be redeemed-"

"Are you kidding me, Giles? For-real gambling chips from Rick's Café Américain? The others back at the castle will love 'em for Christmas gifts! Speaking of presents, what'd you find in the piano? Have you looked yet?"

"Yes, and I still have a hard time believing it. So far, the only reasonable explanation I've come up with is that Willow located it somewhere else and put it in there for us to find. It doesn't make any other kind of sense, not when the other Bogart film had the wrong one-"

"Just lemme see what it is, already!"

"Oh, very well."

After a cloth was pulled back from what Giles was holding in his arms, the alley was momentarily silent due to one of the pair of New Council members becoming speechless. Eventually, a young woman then spoke with true awe in her voice, "Is that all gold?"

"Gold-plated, at the very most. If it was solid all the way through, even you'd have trouble carrying it. The jewels are real, though."

"Wow. All right, my chips are in the book, like Willow told us about storing the stuff we find on our challenges. You want to put that in there now?"

"Quite right, and then we'll be off. If this is only the first of what's to come, I can't help but wonder about the next few dimensions."

"You and me both, Giles."

The older man gave one last look at what he was holding, just before placing the small yet priceless avian statuette inside the space caused by Vi carefully tugging apart a magical tome. Just before leaving Giles' fingers, the glittering eyes made from flawless rubies seemed to flash angrily in what passed for illumination in the darkened alley. It was almost as if the Maltese Falcon was somehow raging at once more being hidden from the sight of mankind.

* * *

Author's Note: In this story and all others, Violet or Vi the Slayer will have the full name of Violet Day, as per the surname of the actress who played her on the series, Felicia Day.


	7. Sinfully Delicious, Indeed

In her small shop located along the main (and only) street of the tranquil French village called Lansquenet-sous-Tannes, Vianne Rocher stood behind the counter and stared with honest bewilderment at the closed front door of this woman's business. She'd been doing that for the last minute or so, ever since the door had shut behind her latest customers. Eventually, Vianne's bemused gaze shifted from the entrance to what she had grandly named _La Chocolaterie Maya_ at its opening several weeks ago. Slowly looking around, the alluring Frenchwoman eyed the now-empty shelves lining the store walls which had just this morning been completely filled with mouth-watering treasures of the chocolatier's art. Finally, a pensive Vianne glanced down at the top of the shop counter, where a most substantial pile of francs lying there risked overflowing onto the scrupulously-clean floor.

Beginning to neatly stack the money representing a full month's profit, Vianne couldn't help but remark aloud to the otherwise deserted shop: "That was…strange."

* * *

It'd all begun a few hours before, when Vianne had been in the same spot by the counter. Trying to take her mind off her worries about the recent lack of business, the shopkeeper had been doing inventory. Scratching notes on a piece of scrap paper, this candymaker specializing in chocolate was intent on the ingredients she'd hopefully need in the future, until she was interrupted in this. The tiny bell dangling on a string attached to the inner doorknob of the front entrance tinkled, announcing the arrival of her first customers for the day. Looking up with a smile of greeting, Vianne's face quickly altered into astonishment at seeing the quite extraordinary pair of young women there a few steps inside her shop.

Standing side by side with the door closed behind them, the jeune femme on the left was surely in her mid-twenties, blond and small, with there being no doubt whatsoever of her being anything but an Américaine. At present, this person was behaving very properly in a temple of chocolate by remaining motionless in her fashionable shoes while she breathed in deeply of the enchanting aromas permeating the store. Vianne felt a moment's pleased pride over the rapturous smile on that other woman's pretty face as she sensibly kept her eyes tightly shut to avoid being distracted by anything lesser seeking the notice of her senses.

However, the main focus of the businesswoman's attention was firmly upon the second jeune femme, who was giving her unaware companion a very amused look. Vianne's surprise at seeing a genuine Chinoise here in such an out-of-the-way spot as her newest home was strong enough to make her impolitely gape at this black-tressed Asian the same age as the blonde. A moment later, the Frenchwoman blinked and felt a faint blush rising in her cheeks, when the blonde opened her eyes and joined the other femme in simultaneously staring at the proprietor behind the counter.

Rallying, Vianne carefully said, "Bonjour, may I help you?" She hoped her English was correct; she hadn't used it since Anouk was born, and that was years ago. If her newest visitors didn't speak any Français, the only thing to do would be to bring Armande her landlady over and see what-

In not only fluent French but with an actual Parisien accent, the blonde happily burbled, "Good morning to you, too! Are you Mademoiselle Rocher?"

Pausing at seeing the dumbfounded expression blossoming onto an older woman's face, the jaune-cheveux caller had a trace of worry creep into her voice when she hastily added, "Or, is that Madame Rocher? I wasn't sure-"

"Ah, either will do," weakly interrupted Vianne, whose whirling thoughts weren't helped at all by this addresser then impolitely elbowing the other young woman at her side.

Without budging a centimeter at this rude nudge, the Chinoise bestowed a vastly sardonic glance at her companion, despite this shorter femme triumphantly hissing, "Hah, I told you I could find this place right away! Considering how many times I've seen it, we didn't need Wils' directions-" Unexpectedly breaking off in her odd boast, the blonde shot a wary look at Vianne gawking at them both.

Sighing in exasperation, the taller and darker-coiffured female now announced to the baffled shopkeeper (whose mystification only increased at hearing this Asian speak in an absolutely identical accent as the other visitor, as if they'd had the same language teacher), "Forgive us, Mlle. Rocher. I'm Chao-Ahn Wu and this is Buffy Summers. We're here to buy some chocolate."

Perking up a bit at the first understandable thing she'd heard in the last few moments, Vianne agreeably stated, "Certainement. What would you like?"

Covetously looking around at the shop interior filled with scrumptious confections, the femme named Buffy started digging into the pockets of her leather jacket, while uttering in a gleeful tone, "Everything."

"_What?!_" blurted a seriously taken-aback Vianne, who then watched her newest customers advance together and stop at the other side of the counter.

Buffy enthusiastically nodded, "Bien sûr," all while slapping down on the counter a thick, banded sheaf of francs. Pulling out another stack of money from her left pocket, this joined the first, and a rhythm soon developed of one after the other. The blonde woman soon casually commented after the dozenth bundle of bills was placed on the growing pile of cash, "Just say 'when' if you think it's enough."

A stupefied proprietor hearing this finally gathered her scattered wits to utter a hasty, "Arrêt! That's too much!"

Smiling faintly, Chao-Ahn said, "Oh, we can afford this. Besides, based on what I've learned from Buffy, your chocolates are well worth it, even if I can't have any."

"Eh?" frowned Vianne at the wry face the Oriental woman was pulling. Swiftly thinking of a possible reason for such a peculiar assertion, the chocolatier asked, "Are you a diabetic?"

Now it was Chao-Ahn's turn to be startled. Shooting a surprised look at Buffy who had her own eyebrows raised in concern, this Chinoise hesitantly answered, "Something like that. I can't drink or eat anything having cow's milk in it, or I get sick, and since that's in chocolate-"

The shop resounded to its owner's loud, relieved laughter, leaving both of the confused customers staring at a beautiful woman eventually chuckling at them, "Filles, _that_ won't be a problem! Come, come, join me in the kitchen, and I'll show you!"

Sharing a bewildered look among themselves, Buffy and Chao-Ahn followed after Vianne imperiously guiding them to the back of the shop building. In a crowded but well-scrubbed kitchen filled with a massive iron stove, numerous bowls and food preparation utensils, and shelves reaching to the ceiling crammed with boxes, bags, and cans of ingredients, Vianne got to work. After checking with Chao-Ahn as to whether she was allergic to anything else and receiving a negative answer, the expert chocolatier started to skillfully mix several different recipes at the same time. All while lecturing to her seated audience at one of the kitchen tables.

"Votre attention, s'il vous plaît, mademoiselles. Now, what she spoke of," (tilting her head into Chao-Ahn's direction since her hands were busy, Vianne continued) "is something I've come across before, and the answer is simple. If chocolat au lait is unfortunately disagreeable to those who cannot tolerate it, then we provide them with equally delicious chocolat à croquer, or as you English call it, dark chocolate. Happily the latter can be created without any necessity of adding dairy milk. Even if they're also called this, such other elements as soy or coconut milk are entirely different, and the chocolates made using these can be savored without any harm, I promise you."

The fascinated pair of Slayers watched Vianne bustle with supreme confidence around her kitchen, pulling various items off the shelves and combining them in bowls and pans, to at last place these into several ovens and cauldrons with a distinct air of élan. Chao-Ahn and Buffy quickly realized they were witnessing a mistress of her craft performing a masterpiece, and they were more than glad to stay there and enjoy it all.

When the cooking was done and the finished chocolate was laid out atop a marble-lined table to cool, Vianne shooed the reluctant younger women out of her kitchen. They returned to the shop, which hadn't had anyone else enter during the short culinary demonstration, and everyone got busy packaging the delectable contents of the shelves there. Though, when this was done, a worried Vianne eyed the results, about several suitcase loads of small paper boxes. Doubtfully beginning, "How are you going to take it all with you-?" she was quickly interrupted by Buffy.

"Oh, our car's close by. I'll take some there first, and Chao-Ahn can do the rest. Matching her actions with her words, Buffy picked up without any difficulty what looked to Vianne's amazement a remarkably oversized pile. Stepping over to get the door for her companion, Chao-Ahn watched with some amusement Buffy gingerly edging through the doorway, until this Slayer managed to pass through without knocking loose any of her packages. Closing the door after, the Asian woman chatted with Vianne for a few moments about where this chocolatier had learned her skills, until an empty-handed Buffy was back soon.

Vianne merely lifted a quizzical eyebrow at seeing this blonde hand over without a word a small book to Chao-Ahn, who put it in her jacket pocket before leaving with the last of the packages. Starting her own conversation with Vianne, Buffy airily spun a story of them being a pair of recent college graduates from les Etats-Unis, taking a motor tour of France together, which ended up with them passing through the village and spotting her shop.

Just as quickly, Chao-Ahn returned, and also without her load of confections. The other women in the candy store ended their amiable chat, with Vianne smilingly stating to the Chinoise, "Your purchase is ready, I'm sure. Just stay there; I'll fetch it."

Striding again into the kitchen, this Frenchwoman came back right away as promised, carrying in one hand a small metal plate having several pieces of the newly-made chocolate placed upon this dish. Offering the plate to Chao-Ahn, Vianne observed with thorough satisfaction how the Oriental fille's face glowed with pure pleasure after she eagerly ate those tasty dark treats mixed with an assortment of fruits and nuts.

Eyeing the plate still held by Vianne which now contained just a single lonely chocolate, Buffy put on the most innocent air she could manage and reached out to take for herself that sole survivor. Only to have her hand lightly but firmly slapped away with blinding speed by Chao-Ahn's own hand, who snatched up the last candy and popped it into her mouth. Mumbling around the melting tidbit, the dark-haired woman still managed to deliver a rather menacing, "_Mine!_"

Over Vianne's gratified giggles, Buffy lifted both hands in mock surrender, wryly declaring, "Okay, okay! I should've known better, anyway. Look, we've got to go now. Mlle. Rocher, could you please wrap up Chao-Ahn's stuff?"

"Oui," good-humouredly nodded Vianne, making one final trip to the kitchen and returning with another set of filled packages. Presenting them to the eagerly waiting Chinoise, the chocolatier then warmly shook hands with Chao-Ahn juggling her prized chocolates in her arms to do this. Buffy was next, and after her own farewell gesture and a chorus of fervent goodbyes from the two younger women, they started to leave the shop.

A well-content Vianne herself walked back to behind the counter, turning around to gladly see off a couple of very appreciated customers while they opened the front door to leave. One odd quirk of acoustics the Frenchwoman had first noticed several days ago once more revealed itself. At that moment, she heard a quick, low-voiced exchange between the departing Américaines.

Though, being able to listen clearly despite standing all the way inside the shop didn't necessary mean a suddenly mystified Vianne Rocher _understood _any of it, or could even ask the jeune femmes walking out of sight through the front shop windows just what they'd been privately discussing together.

Chao-Ahn: "Do we need to do anything else?"

Buffy: "Nope. I'd still like to see in person Juliette Binoche meet Johnny Depp, but that's not gonna happen until later on in the film, and we can't wait. C'mon, let's put your stuff in Wil's book, and we'll head on to the next challenge in the Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt."


	8. Doomed, Doomed, DOOMED!

Bill Landers smoothed down the front of his new uniform, as he admired his trim appearance in the cabin door mirror. At last satisfied he'd present today to his new boss the proper image of a dedicated member of Starfleet, Ensign Landers waved a hand in the proper gesture, and the door's outer surface shifted back into its neutral position of a bland portal the same beige color of his former uniform. Giving one final glance around at the tiny living quarters he shared with his assigned bunkie and newfound friend, Bill tried to ignore the remembrance of George Chan's appalled expression last night when this other ensign had learned of his roomate's requested transfer into another department on the starship _Enterprise._

Over the next hour, Bill and George had vehemently argued about his new career plans. Throughout it all, Bill justified to his concerned friend that this wasn't any kind of hasty decision. Over the last couple of weeks, this young human had already come to the conclusion that he was stuck in a dead-end job, all having to do with his undistinguished grades throughout attending Starfleet Academy. Not that he wasn't intelligent, afraid of hard work, or unwilling to learn. In virtually any other educational setting, Bill would've been among the top ten percent of his classes.

Unfortunately, this was Starfleet Academy, which attracted the best and brightest of not merely one planet, but from hundreds of them. Bill had worked his ass off every year, but while competing against the really talented, truly smart, and ultimate go-getters, the sad fact was that he barely scraped by. Like it or not, every graduating class from the Academy had to have one person who occupied the very last spot in the school standings, and in that year, William P. Landers, of Chillicothe, Ohio, North American Union, had been it.

A newly-minted and very glum ensign had then received his orders for his first posting, not really expecting anything better than earthside duty at one of the Federation's Terran bases. At best, even if he got into space, it'd probably never be further than Luna or Mars, much less out to the stars. However, a totally stunned Bill then learned he'd been assigned to one of the most famed starships in existence, the _Enterprise_ herself. Getting sent there during that vessel's latest home-port visit just had to be sure proof the Great Bird of the Galaxy had finally blessed Momma Landers' only child.

Bill's elation had continued all through his thrilled arrival by transporter to his first posting, up to the exact moment of being informed about his specific appointed duties while serving in the Maintenance Department on this starship. Whereupon a very dismayed junior officer became speedily cognizant of Starfleet's most shameful secret. Namely, even with all this futuristic organization's advanced technology, it didn't matter how much computer power, automation, and robotics were on hand, because sooner or later, _someone_ had to do the actual scutwork.

It soon became evident that rather than blessing Bill Landers, the Great Bird of the Galaxy had instead thoroughly evacuated its bowels right onto his head. This wasn't just an attempt at a clever remark, given how the newest ensign on the _Enterprise_ was now in charge of the starship's toilets. Or as set forth in the regulations, the 'biological waste collection/treatment facilities.'

If Bill had ever wanted to be essentially a plumber, he could've just stayed home for that.

After a few nasty experiences of 'to boldly go' while performing his quickly-detested job, Bill had started discreetly investigating the likelihood of transferring into another department forthwith. _Any_ department, in fact. Regrettably, in the main the positions open there were those he wasn't qualified for, and everywhere else was basically full and not looking for any new applicants.

With one major exception, though. When he'd dropped in there just yesterday, the department head had been more than happy to meet with Bill. After a very convivial chat with this older officer, involving a great deal of extolling by him of how many exciting opportunities of seeing new worlds there'd be for the awestruck ensign, Bill had been speedily won over, and he'd signed his formal transfer request right on the spot. In turn, he'd been provided with a different uniform than the beige one he was currently wearing, and instructed to come back for his first shift tomorrow. The exact details of his duties would be gone over then, and a very cheerful Bill had returned to his living quarters with an actual spring in his step while carrying his new color-coordinated attire.

He hadn't expected at all his roommate's reaction right after entering their cabin, when George had screamed with real horror at seeing Bill's latest set of Starfleet clothing, especially the garment for his upper body. Exactly what was so scary about the Security Department's red shirts?

The next morning, Bill strode out of his shipboard cabin on the way to work while wearing his new scarlet uniform, still somewhat convinced George had been totally putting him on last night. His skeptical attitude started manifesting itself back when George had been listing every single fatality for the vessel's protective detail over the _Enterprise's_ five-year mission up to now. Yes, it was clearly a dangerous job, but that came with the territory. What wasn't reasonable was the utterly ridiculous cause for which the rest of the starship's personnel superstitiously attributed to these Security Department losses. Apparently, it was believed by the entire crew, save for those unluckily belonging to this particular department, that donning one of their red shirts was akin to a death sentence.

Stopping in front of the elevator leading to the ship's other levels, Bill absently mentioned, "B deck," before glancing down at his bright red shirt. Shaking his head in sheer disbelief, the ensign wondered if he could get away with casually mentioning to the other guys in Security what he'd just learned about his outfit. Maybe this was some kind of _Enterprise_ in-joke played by the rest of the crew on the newcomers to the ship? He'd heard about things like that, so was he supposed to just go along with the gag, or what?

Abruptly distracted from his thoughts, Bill looked up at the sound of the elevator door opening. A split second later, too quickly for him to observe anything else or even consider dodging, a small fist shot out from inside the elevator, aimed right at his jaw. An explosion of pain burst through his head when this very hard fist clobbered him, lifting his entire body off the deck. Right after, darkness swallowed Bill's consciousness, even before he limply collapsed onto the corridor floor.

He must've been out for merely an instant, because the next thing a barely-aware Bill dazedly experienced, while still keeping his eyes closed, was his body being dragged a short distance somewhere. During this, a young man's voice came from overhead, delivering in a tone best described as a whiny complaint, "You didn't have to do that!"

Another voice from on high then answered the first speaker. Except, this reply was uttered by an equally young woman apparently in a vile temper, as she snarled back, "Aw, shaddup! Ya hadda drag us alla over this heap, 'cuz ya bragged ya knew where to find what we hadda grab, only ta wind up with zilch! I wasn't gonna pass up the chance of gettin' my hands on this, not with the guy walkin' in on us!"

Through the dense mental fog in his head, Bill then felt his upper body being yanked and tugged in a most inexplicable fashion. Feeling more than a bit fragile at the moment, the Starfleet ensign allowed himself to thankfully sink back into unconsciousness.

Again, this period of oblivion must've lasted only briefly, with Bill soon becoming aware through his closed eyelids a bright light in the distance. Which was immediately followed by a deep voice austerely stating, "Ensign Landers, you are out of uniform."

Blearily opening his eyes, Bill glanced up from lying flat on his back on the elevator floor, with this small enclosed room containing only himself in there. However, outside on the bridge and right before the open elevator entrance now stood Commander Spock, and looking over this Vulcan's shoulders were Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy. Who were one and all clearly expecting some sort of explanation for everything, right _now._

Still on the floor with a seriously aching head, Bill Landers peeked down at his bare chest, which had been decently covered a minute ago by his Security Department red shirt, just before this supposedly cursed item of clothing had mysteriously vanished. Along with whomever had done this to him.

Giving a very sad sigh, the latest victim of the Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt then fatalistically requested, "Can I at least have a new mop when I get transferred back to Maintenance and my old job for the next couple of years?"


	9. Give The Ladies A Great Big Hand, People

Dawn happily sang under her breath, "_…they're allllllll together ooky!_" to then finish with a triumphant double-snap of her fingers.

Walking besides the Key, a young black woman grouchily noted, over the sounds of their feet crunching upon the gravel lane, "You do know, that tune's gonna be bouncing around in my head for the next week? Besides, you've already said you weren't even sure if we landed in the tv show, or not."

Continuing in their hike towards the menacing mansion at the far end of the lane, with this decaying house looming upwards at the low clouds of today's grey skies, Dawn shrugged, "There's at least a half-dozen versions, starting with the New Yorker cartoons. Then came the black and white show, its remake a few decades later, the couple of made-for-tv movies, and of course, the big-screen films."

She glanced over at Rona sniggering in reaction to the litany recited by a devoted fan of the Addams Family, before further snarking at this Slayer, "I still can't believe you barely know anything about that really strange but funny program!"

"I grew up watching the Cosby Show, not something which gave the Brady Bunch a decent run for having the whitest folks around!" snorted Rona. She went on, "Plus, that Uncle Fester guy, he really creeped me out."

"Um," hesitated Dawn, only then realizing for the first time ever, in that all of the media imagings of Charles Addams' eerie creations, there'd been virtually no black characters shown among the weird going-ons. Well…there _was_ Cousin Itt. Who knew exactly what that walking furball looked like underneath all the hair?

Rona also paused at Dawn's sudden stop by one of the shaggy bushes lining the sides of the lengthy driveway, turning around to eye where her game partner was shamefacedly studying the ground. Sighing, the dark-skinned woman dryly said, "Don't worry, Dawnie. I'm not gonna bust your chops about the whole business. It just comes down to this; because we're different in some ways, we're also going to like different stuff, okay? Believe me, if we were going to meet the cast of In Living Color, I'd be just as excited. Go ahead and enjoy it, girl."

"Thanks, Rona!" gratefully acknowledged Dawn, who lifted her head to smile in real appreciation at the sardonic Slayer. Who then stiffened into startled readiness, when Rona watched Dawn abruptly stomp hard on the gravel next to the bush the pair of women had halted against a few moments before. Her gaze flicking down at where Dawn's boot had heavily landed, Rona had the impression of a thin strip of something frantically making its escape while snaking back into cover under the lowest leaves of this shrubbery.

Rushing over to Dawn's side, Rona was ignored by the Key with this Summers sibling now angrily pointing a finger straight towards the bush, yelling at it, "Knock it off! We're not trespassers, because we have a reason to be here! Behave, or I'll tell your owners you need a thorough trimming, right down to a stump!"

Breathing fiercely, Dawn glowered at this seemingly innocent foliage, before giving a satisfied nod. She looked at where Rona was gaping at her companion, with the Slayer then dazedly mentioning, "Uh, Dawn…you just threatened a plant."

Shaking her head in correction while reaching out to tug along a stupefied Rona by her shirtsleeve, Dawn told the black woman when they resumed their walk, "Yeah, you got to be firm with the strangler vines. Give 'em an inch, and they'll take your throat."

A minute later, at the front door of the crumbling mansion, Rona watched in total bewilderment while Dawn cautiously leaned forward to press the doorbell button at her full arm's length, making sure not to step forward to do this. In response, the muffled sound of an immense gong being struck once somewhere inside the building came through the door. Rona also felt the wooden planks of the porch where they were standing vibrate, as if bolts hidden below the floor of this covered shelter had just moved. Now back up at her normal straight posture, Dawn carefully extended her right foot, and she applied a gentle pressure with it to the top of the doormat there. In a flash, this slid out from under Dawn's boot, along with the trapdoor below, revealing a square hole leading downwards into utter blackness.

Both New Council members watched in silence the latest demonstration of Addams home security now slide back into its original position. Rona broke this by clearing her throat and then approvingly commented, "Now, _that'll_ discourage even the Jehovah's Witnesses. Any other surprises I should know about?"

Prodding the booby trap once again with her boot, only to have it stay immobile this time, Dawn absently advised, "Don't go all Slayer on me when Lurch opens the door. He's, well, he's-"

Before Dawn could finish cautioning Rona, the front door indeed swung ajar, exposing to the sight of a gawking pair of females a colossal being formally attired in a butler's uniform. This set of garments strained against the servant's massive form like a circus tent draped over the Rock of Gibraltar. Pale eyes sunk deep into a craggy countenance lifelessly studied the latest callers to a very strange family's home. A mouth with lips resembling ancient scars opened to reveal tombstone teeth, to then issue from the utmost depths of the butler's torso a short question in full basso-profundo mode:

"YOU RANG?"

Brushing off her shoulders the thick layer of dust which had just pattered down from the porch rafters, Dawn cheerfully nodded, "Yes, Lurch. I'm Dawn Summers and this is Rona Nichols. If it's possible, we'd like to meet Mr. and Mrs. Addams, and ask them for a small favor. But, if they're too busy, please don't disturb them on our account. We'll leave at once, thank you very much."

During all of the above, Rona had been worriedly eyeing the daunting figure stock-still inside the front doorway. She wasn't getting off any demon vibes from big-and-bigger, but this didn't necessarily mean that…whatever…was harmless. Particularly since even in the gloomy daylight, not a single breath had been taken by the butler after asking that thunderous inquiry. Before Rona could take Dawn aside and suggest they forget the whole thing, and just skip ahead to the next task in the scavenger hunt, Lurch boomed out again, "COME!"

Shaking her head, both to cure her ringing ears and also to keep the next load of falling dust out of her dreadlocks, Rona incredulously watched the what-is-it turn around in a dutiful manner. Lurch then started plodding away, going down the inside left hallway past the main central staircase with all the impassive inevitability of an immense iceberg floating through the shipping lanes. Worse of all, Dawn fearlessly stepped into the house and followed after, waving Rona along without even bothering glance over her shoulder, in absolute surety the superhuman female would have the Key's back.

Muttering some especially pungent bad language under her breath about stupid Summers sisters, Rona stalked inside the Addams mansion, quickly catching up with Dawn and staying a half step behind and to her friend's left side. As they kept walking down the gloomy hallway to the rear of the enormous house, the black woman shifted her Slayer senses into their highest level. This was definitely wise, since it allowed Rona to react in time at the sight of a dagger come flying out of an open doorway in the corridor. Dawn was at that moment passing by this room, with the deadly knife thrown from within the unlit space being aimed directly at the younger woman's head.

In a blur of action, Rona snatched out of mid-air the thrown dagger by its hilt, just before the weapon would've hit Dawn. A hazy red film of sheer rage fell across her vision and an infuriated Rona swiveled her own head to glare at where two children had now stepped out of their room to stand motionless side-by-side in the doorway. On the left, a chubby boy perhaps twelve years old stared vacantly at the halted visitors. Rona paid no further attention to this kid, since the other one, a girl maybe a year or two younger was clearly responsible for the recent hostile attack on Dawn. A minor clue to verifying this was another dagger expectantly gripped in this little lady's left hand, ready and willing for further homicide.

"You little bitch, I'm gonna-" Rona began to snarl, while bringing up the dagger she'd just caught.

However, in the middle of the Slayer's unfinished threat, the pigtailed girl scornfully interrupted, "You'll do what? _Punish_ me?"

Rona stopped dead in her tracks from her menacing advance towards the Goth kid dressed in solid black all over - shoes, stockings, and short dress with midnight-velvet collar - by the sound of the second question from this girl. It was genuinely creepy, being delivered in a tone of absolute yearning, as if she desired nothing else in her life.

Gaping at the weird beyond belief pre-teen, Rona then became aware of Dawn stepping up to stand by the Slayer. Risking a quick glance sideways, the warrior woman saw yet another astonishing sight: the truly evil smile presently on this friend's lips while she stared unwaveringly at her attacker.

Shifting back her gaze to match Dawn's intent examination, Rona saw a faintly puzzled look flash across the girl's pale face, until it went back to the same bored contempt which had been there a moment before. Though, this rapidly changed into startled wariness when Dawn started gleefully speaking to her, "Oh, Wednesday, my best bud here's just too _nice _to do all that much to you except for a really hard spanking you'd just laugh off. Me, on the other hand…I'm your worse nightmare!"

With those last words, Dawn abruptly pointed at the other girl apparently named after the middle day of the week, and then the Key vigorously wiggled her fingers in a very complex gesture. A bewildered Rona had the sudden recollection of Willow once performing the exact same thing during a Cleveland Hellmouth patrol, right before thus uber-powerful witch had magically transformed a bunch of nasty, people-eating demons into a dozen Chia pets, with each of these terracotta Scooby-Doo figurines also sprouting a healthy crop of herbal foliage.

A horrified gasp came from the somberly-clad girl, showing she'd recognized the gesture. This was helped along by Dawn cackling, "You've got two seconds to scram with your brother and leave us alone, or your 'I'm-so-bad' outfit gets changed into a bright yellow sundress printed all over with blooming flowers! But it won't stop there! You'll also be a perfect blonde with curls galore, and for the crowning touch, there'll be a big ribbon tied into a bow holding your new hairstyle in place!" Lowering her voice, Dawn purred the coup de grace, with a smug whisper for the final word, "Oh, in case I forgot to mention it, that ribbon's gonna be…_pink._"

Her face now set in utter terror, Wednesday grabbed Pugsley's arm with her free hand, and she dragged her brother backwards into the dark room out of sight. The last the two women saw of this boy, he was devotedly gaping at Dawn, having at the same time a thin line of passionate drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

Smirking, Dawn brought up her extended index finger to her lips, and she pretended to blow smoke away from the fingertip. Without further ado, the Key dropped her hand, to next start strutting with real pride down the hallway. Lurch, who'd come to a patient stop and hadn't turned around during the whole absurd affair, also continued on, his broad back filling up almost entirely the hallway while he escorted today's callers to his master and mistress. Rona just trailed along after, feeling rather numb.

This dazed mood quickly changed, particularly when Lurch opened the double doors to their destination. Standing outside in the hallway, the butler let the two women enter the study without following after them. Instead, with superb timing, the unnatural servant announced at his full tooth-rattling intensity exactly when Rona had stepped past him, "VISITORS!"

Enough was enough. Gliding sideways in the study, both to take herself away from that man-monster and also to have a free line of fire past Dawn, Rona whipped up and back her right hand still holding the dagger she'd caught moments ago. This time, it was the Slayer who threw with all her might this razor-sharp knife, directly at the guy placidly standing next to the unlit fireplace in the study's far wall. Zipping through the air across the room, the dagger landed point-first, with the blade then fully sinking up to the guard with a wicked-sounding _Crunch!_ noise. For a few seconds, the knife-hilt sticking out of the mahogany paneled wall continued to quiver until coming to a rest, just a fraction of an inch away from the side of the man's neck.

This short, mature male with a pencil mustache and greased hair, wearing a dark red smoking jacket, and keeping his hands in his pants pocket didn't react in the usual way others might've done. Such as screaming, fainting, and/or running like hell. Instead this man's already crazed grin became just a little bit wider, since it couldn't have possibly shown even more insane delight. Gomez Addams now merrily chortled, "Ah, querida, at last we have guests who understand the proper courtesies!"

"But of course, dear," calmly responded the pallid woman seated in an armchair entirely made of reindeer antlers in the far corner of the study. Glancing past the two visitors halted in the middle of the room, Morticia Addams called out, "Thank you, Lurch. That will be all."

The butler obediently bowed his head and he softly closed the doors, with faint creaking sounds from the floorboards giving way under vast weight beyond slowly dying away indicating he'd headed off to his other duties. Both Dawn and Rona warily glanced over their shoulders to check on this, and when they looked again at the other two people in the room, Morticia had half-closed her slightly protuberant eyes. Taking a deep breath through her nose, this eerie woman offhandedly spoke, "As I was saying, Gomez, you couldn't expect any other behavior from a Slayer."

The mouths of the New Council members dropped open simultaneously, with Dawn asking incredulously, "There are Slayers _here?_ How'd you-"

The dark-haired woman whose clinging floor-length dress was as black as her long tresses dryly interrupted Dawn, "On, no, young lady, I didn't say that. Rather, how shall I put it…I've come across the scent of those charmingly bloodthirsty girls before."

A cool look of interest now passed across the bone-white face of the mistress of the mansion, who next sent a considering glance directly at Dawn. Morticia then mused, almost to herself, "Though, I must confess it's most surprising to also encounter someone who actually smells like a color in the spectrum. Which, in your case, happens to be the aroma of every possible shade of green. Would you be so kind as to explain that, Miss…?"

Trading a very nervous look with Rona, Dawn switched back her attention to the lady in the unique chair, who'd been joined by her husband now standing next to his seated spouse and gently stroking the top of her shoulder. Both Addamses were clearly waiting for some kind of answer from their visitors, as they gazed in amused curiosity at Dawn. Swallowing hard, Buffy's sister sheepishly started off, "Ah, about that - maybe later, okay? Let me start with our names: I'm Dawn Summers and this is Rona Nichols."

Turning her head slightly to nod in the Slayer's direction, Dawn missed how the man and wife across the room simultaneously flinched a little at the first introduction. Rona didn't which only made her inwardly vow to keep a closer eye on those two. The black woman then heard Dawn continued, "We need to ask you a little favor. See, earlier today, one of our friends talked us into joining a scavenger hunt, and she set up some tasks for me and Rona. Right now, one of those undertakings-" (Rona felt the hairs at the back of her neck prickle at the sudden happy smiles appearing on that gonzo couple's faces) "-involves something that needs to be done here."

"Oh, Gomez, games!" ecstatically sighed Morticia, reaching up to pat her husband's hand.

"Si, cara mia!" growled the pasty-faced man in his own sordid elation, who next seized the seated lady's wrist and maniacally kissed her slim fingers ending in blood-red nails.

During every second of this, both Rona and Dawn felt a sudden urge to take a long, cold shower due to the intangible wave of overjoyed sleaziness wafting their way, sent off from the Addamses fervently adoring each other. It wasn't _bad,_ per se, just totally unexpected and somewhat disturbing. Akin, say, to having a five-gallon bucket of warm chocolate syrup poured onto your crotch right after you told your lover in bed with you, "Surprise me, honey!"

Absently fanning her face to provide a little breeze to cool her flushed features, Dawn loudly cleared her throat. This managed to make the couple across the room look up from their latest round of married seduction. Determinedly staring over the Addamses' heads, the Key tried to keep her voice from cracking while coming out with exactly why they were here: "No, nothing like- Never mind, just forget it! Look, it'll take only a minute or two, and then we'll be gone and you can go back to- Um, whatever…"

Rolling her eyes, Rona leaned over and briskly clapped a palm over Dawn's babbling mouth, shutting her up before this young woman said something really stupid. Still holding her fingers there, Rona directed her next words to Gomez and Morticia.

"We both need to shake hands with Thing."

On the other side of Morticia's antler armchair from where Gomez stood, there was an antique table with a circular top. In the center of this furniture, there rested a small wooden container the size and shape of a shoebox. Polished to a mirror finish, this odd object had a lid with a tiny knob in the middle to be used by anyone lifting the lid. However, right after Rona spoke, the top of this box now flipped open, entirely on its own.

A disembodied hand know to one and all as Thing (or to those fleeing for dear life after seeing this truly scary creature, "AAAAAHHHH!") leapt out of his home. Landing onto the tabletop and perching there on his fingers, each of Thing's five digits were quivering with real eagerness.

The other four intact people in the room all stared at this definite display of anticipation. Finally, Morticia inquired somewhat doubtfully, "_Is_ it all right with you, Thing?"

There was a pause, until the sallow-colored hand ending at the wrist deliberately bent and then straightened his fingers. This caused Thing's entire form to bob once, just like someone nodding their head in acceptance.

"Capital, old man!" jubilantly called out Gomez to his fencing partner and hand-of-all-work. The Addams patrician then beamed at Dawn and Rona, just before asking them, "So, which of you exquisite senoritas is going first?"

In a blur of Slayer speed, Rona yanked out from her jeans pocket the video camera provided earlier by Willow, and she held this digital recorder ready. Shooting her snickering friend the dirtiest look she could manage at short notice, Dawn glanced back at the table where Thing was excitedly leaning forward into her direction. Squaring her shoulders, the Key took a tentative step ahead, and she held out her hand…

In another majestic bound, Thing soared up and off from the tabletop, arcing through the air, and with perfect judgment, he landed directly into Dawn's grip. This startled young woman felt strong fingers clasp her own, and then Thing enthusiastically moved the remaining five percent of his former body into a good dozen handshakes, making Dawn's arm jerk up and down. Staring in absolute wonder at what was plainly enjoying it all, Dawn couldn't help but notice two things: first, the stump of Thing's wrist ended in smooth skin, and second, the hand holding hers was icy cold.

Just about anyone else would've gone into complete hysterics at that point, but not Dawn Marie Summers, Sunnydale survivor. On the contrary, what she was blissfully feeling right now was a happy recollection of one night when Spike had been babysitting her. It'd wound up with this English vampire showing her in the Revello Drive living room how to dance the waltz, and a pair of hands as chilly as the grave had expertly guided her in the steps. Starting to laugh in sheer enjoyment, Dawn shook back as hard an undead hand, until in their shared accord, the Key let go at the same time as Thing.

In another graceful arc rearwards, Thing flew with the greatest of ease, alighting without harm onto his fingertips back at the tabletop by Morticia. Flipping up to balance on his stump, Thing then gaily waved at a giggling Dawn, who waved back.

Next, everybody looked at Rona. Even Thing, who somehow managed to express his focused attention upon the black woman. Lowering the still-running video camera, the Slayer sighed in mild exasperation, to then grumpily stride over to where Dawn was wickedly grinning at her friend. Passing over the camera, Rona eyed the disembodied hand now utterly motionless, and she imitated Dawn in approaching the table with her outstretched arm coming up…

With unexpected swiftness, Thing sprang right at Rona's face, his fingers thrust out like claws. Dawn had just lifted the camera to record everything, and she watched in shock through the viewfinder at what happened next, when Rona had to use every bit of her Slayer speed. Flesh met against flesh with slapping sounds, as both participants went up against each other in an intense challenge.

Her face splitting in an ear-to-ear grin, Rona returned Thing's high five, hastily dropped her hand to waist level and palm up just in time to perform a low five, did a fist-bump against each other's knuckles, and flawlessly drummed her fingertips onto the yellowish ones meeting her own digits. The dap concluded with Thing bouncing off the top of Rona's hand helping him along with a push, and he did a perfect triple back somersault with a full twist which returned him in a perfect, ten-point dismount onto the antique table.

With her astonished eyes as wide as saucers, Dawn slowly lowered the video camera. Opening her mouth, Dawn let it stay like that as she tried to think of exactly what to say about that little display of total strangeness done by Thing and Rona. As for this Slayer herself, she didn't notice. Rather, she was clapping her hands in glee while whooping to the room at large, "Oh, yeah! If I'd know about this, I would've watched the show full time!"

Flicking her gaze towards where the Addamses were witnessing it all with knowing smiles on their faces, Rona eagerly asked them, "So, how'd it happen? Doesn't look like vitiligo- No, it's albinism! He's an albino, right?"

Bouncing up and down on the tabletop to attract everyone's notice, Thing dropped and rolled onto the right side of his form, and speedily moved his fingers into a thumbs-up gesture which indicated a delighted Rona had indeed guessed correctly. Dawn, on the other…hand, was completely bewildered. She reached out to give a triumphant Slayer a poke on the other woman's shoulder, and said with utter bafflement, "What's going on, Rona? Why are you so happy?"

Instead of answering right away, Rona guffawed out loud for several moments, until she got herself under control, and pointed with satisfaction at Thing preening under the attention. In a supremely vindicated tone, the black woman declared, "Dawnie, that guy there, he's a soul brother!"

Feeling as if her brain had just overloaded, Dawn stared in full bogglement at Thing. Who himself had now shifted into a posture of giving the staring Key a lazy, one-digit salute of a sweeping extended index finger which stopped to point right at her with his thumb resting onto the side of the curled-in third finger matching his ring and little fingers. There was no way this gesture done by a bleached hand having virtually no pigment in his skin could've meant anything else but: _Word._


	10. Next Time, Have It To Go

"If you're hungry, stop at Middleton's Bueno Nacho establishment in the Kim Possible dimension and have lunch there. Bring back a restaurant menu from the place to prove you visited this location," Kennedy sarcastically repeated out loud from the book instructing Willow's latest task for this Slayer and her scavenger hunt team partner, Xander Harris.

Shrugging while simultaneously sucking at his fingertips to get the very last bit of melted cheese off them, Xander pointed out in cheerful mumble through his filled mouth, "Hey, those nachos were the best I've ever had! You liked them, too."

Both members of the New Council then winced at the tremendous explosion coming from the fast-food restaurant's parking lot outside. This was followed right after by the ear-splitting _CRACK!_ of every window in the building blowing inwards as a result. Fortunately since Xander and Kennedy were already huddled together on the floor under their table for safety, unlike the rest of the customers and servers who'd already run for their lives, they missed being hit by the razor-sharp shrapnel. Indistinct masculine shouting coming through the now-open windows, accompanied by even more detonations, showed that Dr. Drakken and Ron Stoppable were still at it and undoubtedly enjoying the time of their lives.

Giving her team partner a very nasty glare, Kennedy now snarled, "Even if we _did_ have today's two-for-one special deal, it doesn't make up for this-"

A noisy _Whump!_ coming from overhead interrupted the fuming Slayer's complaint, signaling Kim Possible had just used their tabletop as a springboard to perform an expert double somersault over her own annoyed opponent. Who then further expressed her ire by firing a blast of green plasma from her right hand, which barely missed the dodging red-haired cheerleader and created yet another yard-wide hole in the far wall.

*Okay,* Kennedy internally decided, *Enough was enough.* Her hands shifted on the magical book, about to get them both out of here and hopefully somewhere safer in the next task. It wasn't like she particularly cared about those two other young women fighting in the restaurant. Neither were any kind of demons, so she couldn't slay them, and it wasn't any skin off her nose over who won, so Kennedy got set to transport themselves away from this dimension.

Only to have Xander promptly protest, "Hey, wait a damn minute, willya!"

Kennedy stared at Xander as if he'd just gone insane. This one-eyed man's next actions couldn't help but further encourage the Slayer's conviction of someone's sudden mental breakdown. Not when Xander was now gingerly holding by its lower left corner a Bueno Nacho menu up in the air, causing the upper half of this to appear over the edge of the tabletop. An instant later, the menu was being urgently waved to and fro.

"What are you _doing?!_" frantically hissed Kennedy.

Xander replied in a preoccupied tone, "Testing a cliché," all while keeping his gaze fixed at the waggled menu he was presenting as an irresistible target. Indeed, in the very next second, the plastic sheet of a Mexican restaurant's culinary offerings quivered slightly in Xander's hand, right after an emerald ray of ultra-hot gases then effortlessly pierced the menu. Hastily yanking his hand down, Xander smirked with pride at the smoldering hole in the menu, which was about the width of his thumb and still had the inner edges of this recent aperture glowing a vivid green.

Triumphantly chortling at his gaping companion, Xander whooped, "Okay, a Bueno Nacho menu on its own is a pretty good souvenir, but one that's also been personally autographed by Shego herself? Pure gold, I'm telling you! Now, let's scram!"


	11. Jeeves, The Watcher, And The Slayer

From beneath the untidy heap of bedcovers, a huddled form uttered a lengthy, pain-wracked moan. This sound of pure agony was soon followed by a trembling hand extended out from under the sheets, blindly held palm upwards. Immediately, a filled glass containing a murky substance was unerringly placed onto this hand, with both that part of the person and the tumbler being withdrawn back out of sight below the bedclothes. A few seconds later, a noisy slurping sound came from there, lasting for several moments.

At the end of this indecorous occasion, a much-steadier hand again protruded from the mound concealed by the blankets of an Englishman's bed. This was accompanied by the wondering voice of someone who'd just a moment ago before his consumption of a desperately needed hangover cure thought it ever impossible to announce, "Good morning, Jeeves."

The valet of valets, Jeeves the one and only, calmly accepted the now-empty glass from his employer's hand. After placing this onto the nightstand, he went around the bedroom throwing back the window curtains and then opening these panels, too. With bright daylight now filling up the room, an imperturbable response was then uttered by this manservant, "Judging by the current meteorological conditions, it does indeed appear to be the start of a most agreeable day, if I may say so, sir."

Hearing this, a young man in his late twenties warily poked his head out from one end of the bedcovers. Possessing severely tousled hair, Bertram Wooster, known to his friends at the Drones Club as 'Bertie', now had his amiably foolish face crack open in a prolonged yawn. Squirming around on the bed to stuff his pillows against the headboard as a brace, Bertie leaned back upon his recent construction, and he watched Jeeves placidly glide out of the bedroom. Blinking as he glanced out of the apartment windows at a pleasant London spring morning in the year 1931, Bertie was content to lie there while drawing in several deep breaths of fresh air. This action also brought to his twitching nose the enticing smell of a good, solid breakfast at hand.

Bertie's mouth watered as he contemplated the prospect of devouring Jeeves' latest culinary masterpiece fresh from the kitchen. The young gentleman sighed in pure happiness. Life was good, especially after surviving yet another Boat Race Night. If it wasn't expected of him by his pals, this member of England's idle rich would've rather spent last night with perhaps a snifter of brandy and an early bedtime, during the occasion when numerous graduates of Oxford and Cambridge celebrated throughout the city their famous rivalry over the rowing matches held annually between their universities.

As it was, Bertie still felt it necessary to join in the festivities with his fellow Drones, going from nightclub to nightclub with them, and having the best time he could manage-

Er.

For some strange reason, he was drawing a deuced blank over everything which might've happened to him last night. Oh, he remembered well enough being sent off by Jeeves early in the evening while attired in impeccable evening dress. However, there weren't any memories at all after this, until he found himself lying in bed the next morning, thankfully sending down a parched throat his valet's supreme pick-me-up. No, absolutely _nothing_ in between. It was bally odd, rather.

Thoughtfully rubbing at his chin stubble, Bertie glanced up when Jeeves materialized back into the bedroom, this time carrying a fully-loaded breakfast tray and the latest edition of today's newspaper tucked under one arm. Several adroit moves later, Jeeves was busily laying out his master's clothing for the day, while Bertie munched and sipped at the food and drink from the tray placed on the bed across his supine body. Ignoring the folded newspaper placed on the nightstand ready for his later perusal, the young man tentatively called out between mouthfuls, "I say, Jeeves, after I came home last night, did I by any chance mention to you about what happened to me earlier? I must admit, I can't remember a single blasted thing."

Not a muscle shifted in Jeeves' composed features as he continued to twitch the trouser leg of today's outfit into perfection, nor was there any change in the valet's usual unruffled tone, even while replying, "As it happens, sir, you did. At great and enthusiastic length, even when I was bringing you inside and preparing you for bed."

"Well, that's all right, then," Bertie brightly mumbled through his mouth stuffed full with toast and crisp bacon. Hastily swallowing this at seeing Jeeves' disapproving glance, the aristocratic layabout then pointed out with great good cheer, "I mean, it's not like last year, when you had to bail me out over my little bit of trouble with the ostrich, that bunch of circus tightrope walkers, and the Earl of Wraxley's daughter Bootsie, who wanted to run off with them."

"I believe it all worked out then for the best, sir," austerely stated Jeeves, whose reply indicated he didn't seem too anxious to further discuss this.

Finishing off the last of the kippers, Bertie shot an inquiring gaze over his teacup at Jeeves going back to work without another word. Dash it all, even if nothing too unusual appeared to have come to pass concerning himself last night, he didn't care at all for being unable to remember anything. It was time to crack the whip and get Jeeves to confess all, or his name wasn't Bertram Wilberforce Wooster!

"Jeeves!" This servant's presumed master ordered in a stern voice which tried to be actually intimidating, but only succeeding in presenting itself as possessing more than a touch of wheedling. "Kindly stop fussing around with my bally suit and come out with it, what I've forgotten about last night!"

A rare flicker of resignation now passed over the mild-mannered valet's countenance. Squaring his shoulders, Jeeves turned to regard his unshaven employer in the bed, who looked prepared to be genuinely stubborn about this. Perhaps it was for the best to reveal all, so once more unto the breach…

"If you truly insist, sir. I believe, from your rather…inebriated comments, that things went as usual for most of the night. This would include the point when you fell in with several members of the Drones rugby team, who'd somehow earlier acquired a policeman's helmet."

"Hang on a moment, Jeeves," interrupted Bertie, pensively scratching his head, before perking up to happily continue, "I say, now that you mentioned it, it's beginning to come back to me! I don't quite recall how they came across this, but when we were together, Big Wally and Legs Hamilton and some other fine blokes, they planned to display the helmet on the head of one of those lion statues around Nelson's Column in Trafalgar Square."

Presenting a faultless deadpan, Jeeves inquired, "The gentlemen you just mentioned, would they be the same persons who visited here several weeks ago? Those individuals best described as having the identical size, demeanor, and intelligence of a pair of steamrollers?"

As ever missing the very possibility of sarcasm, Bertie simply nodded in agreement, adding, "By Jove, that fits them both to a T! Go on, Jeeves. You're doing your usual fine job of narration, so what happened next?"

Stifling a sigh with all the expertise gained from constant practice of being in Mr. Wooster's scatterbrained company, Jeeves obediently resumed, "Arriving at your destination, you were at once granted the honor of holding the helmet while your companions prepared to lift you up to place it on the statue. However, from out of the night-time crowd observing this, a pair of complete strangers then accosted your group, claiming they required for their own purposes the policeman's helmet. They immediately demanded this be handed over to them."

"Good heavens!" After this sudden exclamation, Bertie's mouth fell open. He gaped in absolute shock at Jeeves tranquilly meeting his master's concerned stare. The younger man then blurted, "How could I have forgotten that? The chap who ordered us, he was the combination of a lion-tamer, the colonel of a battle-tested regiment, and the strictest but fair schoolmaster ever! I'd have given the helmet to him in a shot, except…"

There was a short pause after Bertie abruptly trailed off in his statement, with a very worried expression now creeping over his ordinarily affable face. Carefully watching his charge, Jeeves waited with utter patience, until it didn't seem likely that Bertie would stop staring vacantly past the manservant.

Clearing his throat, Jeeves tried to verbally prod his employer into confirming what he'd drunkenly informed a very dubious listener last night, "I would venture to say, this didn't go down well with your friends at the time?"

Still staring off into the distance, Bertie absently shook his head. "Too bloody right! Big Wally and Legs, they told the new bloke to shove off, and if he didn't, they'd give him a good thumping. In fact, they were going to do it anyway, until- Um. Ah." Breaking off in his story, Bertie now squeezed shut his eyes, and he started to fretfully rub his forehead.

In a voice of growing panic, this Englishman now groaned, "What the devil did I drink last night? I mean, not even the bathtub gin I tried in the colonies a few years back gave me hallucinations like seeing a little slip of a girl grabbing two enormous blokes by their necks, which she had to reach up for! Then, she lifted them both off the ground at the same time without any effort at all, right before banging their heads together! She didn't have any trouble dealing with the rest of the Drones, either!"

Now totally fascinated, Jeeves inquired, "And what did her companion do then, sir?"

"Hah?" blankly responded Bertie, before blinking at where his expectant servant was regarding him. Frowning, the man lying in his bed tried to recollect the ensuing events. "Oh, him, he just stood next to me, took the helmet out of my hands, and told me that I'd be all right, as long as I kept my mouth shut and didn't further annoy Violet- Right, _that's _what her name was. Anyway, I bloody well did what I was told, even when she started pantsing the entire team down for the count. I think…"

Again starting to rub at his forehead, Bertie was evidently having no luck in further remembering, which was borne out by him confessing, "That's as far as it goes, Jeeves. The only clear thing afterwards is me waking up here, with a terrible headache and a furry tongue." Examining his valet, with this other man presently lost in thought over what he'd just learned, Bertie doubtfully asked, "Hullo, just how did I get back home, anyway?"

Jeeves bestowed his most matter-of-fact gaze upon the perplexed inhabitant of the bed while murmuring, "A somewhat aggravated taxicab driver brought you here, sir. This chauffer was remarkably insistent over being owed the fiver you promised him, so I paid him off, and escorted you to bed. During this, you rather graphically described the entire events of the night. I'm afraid I didn't quite believe you, sir, but it now appears your story's veracity is not open to dispute, however incredible it may seem."

"Hmm," skeptically grunted Bertie, who then stretched out on the bed. His glance fell upon the remainder of the breakfast left on the tray there. Picking up the last triangle of toast and a bread knife, Bertie started to apply some orange marmalade to this tidbit. He next commented in a more optimistic tone than previously, "Well, whether it was real or a mere figment of my imagination, it's over and done with, right? I've at last come through a Boat Race Night without getting into the least bit of trouble!"

Taking a celebratory bite of his toast, Bertie happily masticated away, all without noticing the genuinely sorrowful look being given to him by Jeeves. In truth, Bertie wasn't diverted from his meal until his valet walked over to the nightstand, took from there the late morning edition of the newspaper, opened this out to the proper page, and showed what was there to his employer. Who now became utterly frozen in mid-chew, staring with bulging eyes at the newspaper.

This was all due to a truly extraordinary photograph of a night-time scene in Trafalgar Square, as it was presented in the paper. In a masterpiece of composition, to the left of the picture, there was a pile of several very large and totally unconscious young men neatly stacked onto each other. More incredibly, all of those comatose males were missing their trousers.

In the center of the photograph, one of Landseer's bronze lions seen face-on was sternly regarding the viewer.

Finally, on the right, three people were standing next to each other. Of this small group, the young, red-haired woman dressed in a smart, feminine outfit was mischievously smirking at the newspaper photographer taking their picture. The oldest of the trio, perhaps twice the age of the rest, was a resolute-looking man in a somber tweed suit, peering over his glasses glinting in the flash, and also wearing on his head a London bobby's helmet rakishly tilted forward.

Taking his spot in the middle of their company, a definitely sloshed young man in rumpled evening dress, and with his arms thrown in a comradely fashion over the others' shoulders, posed there in the photograph. Even with his mouth wide open in a drunken grin, Bertie Wooster was instantly identifiable to anyone who knew him.

The total silence in the bedroom was soon broken by Jeeves' calm announcement while he smoothly removed the breakfast tray from the bed, "I've already booked two tickets for our train ferry to France, sir, and the hotel reservations in the most remote part of the Alps have been confirmed. If you would be so good as to make your speedy ablutions-"

"God bless you, Jeeves!" shouted Bertie over his shoulder, as he leapt out of bed in his pajamas and then sprinted for the bathroom, slamming the door shut after him.

There might have been the faintest of smiles on Jeeves' face at this, but the valet nonetheless returned to his other duties while carrying the breakfast tray out of the bedroom and along the apartment corridor towards the kitchen. Just as the manservant was about to enter that other room, the hallway telephone began to stridently ring. Making a quick U-turn, Jeeves was about to pick up the telephone's receiver, until Bertie stuck his head out past his bedroom entranceway, also attracted by that loud noise.

Past the toothpaste frothing at the corners of his mouth, Bertie frantically ordered, "Jeeves, don't you dare answer it! From the sound alone, that's got to be Aunt Agatha! Just get us packed, and with any luck, we'll be well away before she gets here, breathing fire and otherwise perfectly imitating a wrathful dragon!"


	12. Visiting An Ancient China That Never Was

I shall clasp my hands together and bow to the corners of the world.

My surname is Lu and my personal name is Yu, but ever since I was born the tenth of my father's sons and grew up to be stronger than anyone else in my village, I've always been called Number Ten Ox. Considering how important these faithful beasts of burden are to China, especially in the present Year of the Snake 3339 (A.D. 641), this nickname has never bothered me.

At the moment our story begins, I was trotting along a stony trail after nearly a full day's travel with Master Li comfortably carried on my back. He doesn't weigh anything at all, and the tiny feet of this ancient sage were neatly tucked into my tunic pockets. Keeping a wary eye out for bandits and tigers and anything else which might think a double snack of an elderly scholar and his well-muscled assistant would satisfy their appetites, I continued on with my journey into the rising hills beyond us. Master Li hadn't spoken for the last hour or so, and I knew he was thinking hard about our latest commission.

Just yesterday, a group of terrified hill people had come to Peking, and after asking around for advice on where to find a wise man willing to work _very_ cheaply, they'd been directed to our small home at the Street of Eyes. Master Li had been inclined at first to be rather dismissive of their stories about numerous disappearances of people of all ages and occupations from villages scattered throughout the region. However, the longer they talked, describing how a good many men, women, and children - sometimes entire families! - had all vanished at night from their homes without any reasonable explanation, my mentor's wrinkled face had tightened in real concern.

In the middle of their tale of woe, Master Li raised a frail hand to interrupt, telling our visitors he was taking the case, and we'd soon travel to their hills to see what could be done. The impoverished villagers gratefully bowed themselves out, leaving me looking with some surprise at a contemplative scholar. I must confess, I was trying to think of a respectful enough way to mention that we hadn't been paid.

Before I could touch upon such things as money and how empty our larder was, Master Li sitting cross-legged on his sleeping mat briskly ordered me to make the rounds of every wineshop and gossip-monger in Peking I could manage for the rest of the day. I was to listen for any confirmation of what we'd just been told. Trudging away from the shack we shared, I left Master Li behind, all while trying to ignore the loud rumbles of my starving stomach.

Still, a while later at supper in our home, I was much happier. Both due to the large meal of fish stew delivered from one of the street vendors (I decided not to ask just how this had been procured), and also regarding the interesting news I was able to convey to Master Li. Putting aside the usual omens, prophecies, rumors, government announcements, and the latest scandals from the Forbidden City, there was really something odd going on in the hills at the location we'd been informed about by our recent callers.

Nodding slowly in satisfaction at this corroboration, Master Li told me to get a good night's sleep in my bed. We'd be off at first light, and hopefully arrive at our destination in the hills near Peking just before dark.

Eyeing the sun almost touching the horizon, I picked up the pace, and opened my mouth to ask my rider if he knew where to find the nearest village. However, it was at that point when two women fell out of the sky in front of me.

Let me rephrase this. My respected teacher has a tendency to become somewhat tetchy about dramatic imprecision in my setting down our adventures. Rather, given how I was looking straight ahead when these people dropped suddenly from above, they might've descended from their perches atop a tree, or a tall boulder, or some other elevated structure close by. Except for the unfortunate fact during then, I was running across a completely flat and bare meadow stretching in all directions for a lengthy distance, with nothing higher around me than the grasses I was crushing under my boots.

Coming to a shocked halt, I gaped at the pair of total strangers who'd both landed lightly on their feet like a brace of cats and were staring back at myself and Master Li. We all stood there frozen, and I had the chance to closely study the young women. They were identically clad in bizarre clothing looking nothing like ordinary cloth, silk, or wool, and all of these garments were tightly fitting enough for even the most brazen of prostitutes to blush over wearing these.

The female on my right was Chinese - from the south, I decided - but I couldn't place her tribe. She was much bigger than virtually any woman I'd ever met before, and the glint of her bright teeth shown through lips opened in surprise showed she had all of these in her mouth. I dazedly wondered if she was some sort of aristocrat, to explain how none of her teeth were missing or decayed. Then, I glanced at the first woman's companion at her side, and my stupefaction increased enormously.

She was undoubtedly the ugliest person I'd ever seen in my life.

Another woman perhaps the same age, but quite smaller, with hair the color of what was produced by someone with a serious kidney disease making water, skin horribly colored fish belly-white, and worse of all were her eyes. They were deformed in such a manner to give this unlucky lady an ever-present expression of wide-eyed astonishment upon her misshapen features.

I was only able to tear my appalled gaze away when Master Li rapped a bony knuckle against the top of my skull, and demanded, "Put me down, idiot! I want to meet them!"

As ever, I obeyed orders in helping my passenger down from my back. Nevertheless, I took the opportunity during this to discreetly whisper to him, "Are you sure, sir? They might be mad, seeing how they're so tastelessly dressed. Besides, where did they come from? It's like they appeared out of thin air, and the smaller one could give any demon from the Lower Hells a good run for sheer hideousness-"

"Hey, watch your mouth!" barked the repulsive woman in a very odd accent, who was now glaring at me despite there should've been no possible way for her to hear what I'd just said. She went on to obnoxiously comment, "_You're_ one to talk, with that smashed nose someone definitely took exception to in the past and clobbered with a rock! Don't you know how to be polite? Nah, you probably go through life expecting your big muscles to impress us girls! Well, guess what? Even Faith doesn't care to be insulted right to her face!"

Obviously from the sound of things, this wretched lady had indeed earlier escaped from an insane asylum. This made my next course of action crystal clear. So, without further ado, I advanced upon the small female looking up at me, and put out my hands to gently restrain her, until she could be sent back to her keepers and live in peace without bothering anyone else.

In the next heartbeat, I was lying flat on my stomach in the meadow grass, with my face squashed against the ground by a small foot firmly pressing onto the back of my head. From above, a disgusted feminine voice asked, "What's with Mr. Grabby?"

I then heard from behind Master Li politely request, albeit with more than a trace of amusement lurking in his tone, "Please don't break my assistant. At my age, Number Ten Ox would be very difficult to replace, since I don't have all that many years remaining to train a new partner in our investigations.

A derisive sniff came from my captor, but she did take her foot off my head and move a few steps away. All to the sounds of her companion suddenly laughing in utter delight. Not daring to move except for swiveling upwards my right eye, I saw the Chinese woman unexpectedly point at me still prone on the grass, and happily exclaim, "From the name and looks of him, he can't be anyone but the same character! And _you_…"

Her arm shifted to take aim over my body at someone else, with her finishing in total glee, "…have got to be Master Li!"

"That's correct, young lady," serenely replied my teacher. In the same calm voice, Master Li stated, "But you have the advantage of me. May I know your names?"

With sparkling eyes, the Chinese woman eagerly nodded, and gestured at herself, "I'm Chao-Ahn Wu, and this is Buffy Summers." Accompanying this very strange name was a wave towards someone still out of my sight, which was none other than the tiny opponent who'd defeated me faster than anyone else I'd ever met in a wrestling match.

I didn't have time to brood about this, since Master Li sardonically commanded me to get up. Scrambling onto my feet, I nervously glanced at where the yellow-hair woman was, only to see her several arm-lengths away completely ignoring me. Instead, she was peering at a strange little book opened in her hands. Still not paying attention to anything else, the woman with a most peculiar name incomprehensibly announced, "Yeah, Wils nailed it. We landed right on top of them! All we have to do is ask for their autographs, Chao-Ahn, and we can leave. That'll put us in the lead for sure-"

Faster than should've been possible, in such a blur her actions were difficult to discern, this 'Buffy' broke off in her statement, spun around on her feet, thrust the book into a pocket, and then produced from her garments a pointed stake held ready, all to halt utterly immobile while she stared fiercely at the shadowed hills ahead. In another burst of unbelievable speed, Chao-Ahn was at her companion's side, an identical wooden stick gripped tightly in the other woman's hand.

Neither of these females showed any awareness of us behind standing them. Instead, both kept on intently looking straight at the hills covered in near darkness at sunset. A few moments later, Chao-Ahn asked from the corner of her mouth, "Buffy…?"

"Big badness there, Chao-Ahn. You feel it too?"

I'd taken a few steps back to protectively stand by Master Li, but we were enough to the side to see the taller woman frown, and hesitantly answer, "A bit, but not like you, I think."

Buffy shrugged while still not taking her eyes away from the hills. "I've still got more of the Slayer sense than Faith, just like she's got more than you and the Sunnydale Slayers, and you have versus the newbies-"

This time, what interrupted their conversation was Master Li incredulously exclaiming, "_Slayers?!_ But that's impossible!"

With smooth movements, Buffy and Chao-Ahn separated, drifting to the sides and leaving a wide space between them, until we were now directly behind them. A slight inward turn of these women's heads allowed them to simultaneously watch the hills while also glancing at Master Li eyeing them both in his extreme wonder. As usual in my elderly master's company, I was left out of things, standing there with my mouth blankly open to catch any nearby flies.

Buffy stated in a very suspicious tone, "And how'd you know that, Methuselah?"

Exasperatedly waving his hands, Master Li responded, "I've come across a lot of very strange things in my long life, young lady. I've also heard and read about a great many more. Can we please discuss this later? For now, you've just confirmed my misgivings about what Ox and I were told yesterday by villagers living up there. Namely, there's a growing nest of ch'ih-mei somewhere in those hills beyond, which you've just sensed."

A cold chill went down my spine at hearing this dreadful news about an infestation of vampire ghouls. These were vile creatures of the night who crept through darkness to fall upon their innocent victims, feasting on the flesh and blood of humans.

The reactions of the two women were totally different from what I felt. They again looked directly at the hills, and matching snarls of determined rage twisted their delicate features into predator's masks. Buffy spoke in a voice of pure iron, "We're here, so we'll deal with it. You with me, Chao-Ahn?"

"Always," furiously gritted the Chinese woman.

Nodding curtly, Buffy snapped to us without looking back, "Stay there!" In the next moment, both strangers took off at a dead run. I gaped after them in total shock at seeing these ladies achieve and then effortlessly maintain a cheetah's sprint, over twice as fast as a galloping horse. A few seconds later, they were well out of sight in the growing dusk, but from the last I saw of them, the women were inexorably racing towards the hills, to meet monsters which these young females apparently considered to be their sworn enemies.

I was jerked back into awareness by Master Li swarming up my body until he was once again perched on my back. Another hard rap by his knuckles upon my scalp was followed by him eagerly urging, "Follow them, boy! I must see this!"

"But, Master Li-!"

_Crack!_ went my mentor's open palm when he boxed my right ear. I yelped with the pain, but this was drowned out by Master Li's firm command, "Move! I'm not telling you to go up against a ch'ih-mei with your bare hands, because those two won't need anyone's help! Track them as far as you can, but I'm certain we'll be able to find our recent acquaintances without any trouble after that!"

As ever, Master Li was right. After a lung-searing dash, we came to a big crack in the face of a cliff at the foothills. From within this cavern entrance came screams, howls, and other terrible sounds of battle. Master Li slipped off my back and fearlessly scurried ahead along the track heading deeper into the cavern. I followed right at his heels, panting in my exhaustion, while also trying to look in all directions at once to spot an attacking vampire ghoul before this red-eyed, fanged fiend could tear out my throat with its claws.

When he stopped short, I nearly overran Master Li standing at the edge of an opening in the rock walls. Fortunately, I managed to halt and stare over his white hair into a large chamber extending in all directions, dimly lit by scattered torches flaring along the cavern sides. This feeble light revealed an appalling scene.

At the center of this space, there was a mob of more than fifty ch'ih-mei, ranging in age from mere children to oldsters, all of who were trying to kill two small women in these creatures' midst. This pair of ladies were themselves easily massacring their adversaries. In a swirl of combat, slim forms struck, kicked, stabbed, and otherwise disposed of a vampire ghoul at every blow. Whittling down the chi'ih-mei numbers at will, Buffy and Chao-Ahn fought together with inhuman skill, working their way towards where my attention was then directed by Master Li pointing with worry.

The largest monster of them all, who'd been an immense man a half-head taller than me while living, was standing at the far end of the cavern, in front of a crude altar heaped high with corpses. Some of these bodies were still so fresh they were dripping blood. Ignoring the clash taking place behind him, this vampire ghoul waved his taloned hands in mystical gestures. On the cavern wall where he was facing, a glowing circle wider than a man's height suddenly appeared.

This disk was illuminated by its inner radiance, a loathsome gangrene-green sheen which made me feel sick to my stomach simply to observe it. I became even more ill when the disk began to widen and flex outwards, as if _something_ was attempting to pass through this portal into the cavern.

A flicker of motion caught my eye, and I thankfully lowered my gaze to see both Buffy and Chao-Ahn bury their stakes deeply into the ch'ih-mei's back, ending this foul monster's existence as they'd already done with all the others. Not pausing to celebrate their victory, the women glanced up at the growing portal, then at each other. Without a word, the pair of superhuman females stepped to the opposite ends of the altar, which was only a crudely rectangular slab of stone laid horizontally across several stalagmites cut down to serve as supporting pillars.

Placing their hands under the slab, which had to weigh a ton or more, Buffy and Chao-Ahn heaved upwards in unison. Coming free from its supports, the altar literally flew through the air directly at the portal, while spilling its load of corpses. The stone slab smashed into the glowing disk with an ear-splitting crash.

In a gigantic burst of unwholesome green light, the portal vanished, along with whatever might have been concealed behind this threshold. I had just enough time to see the altar shatter into innumerable pieces which fell to the rough floor, when the entire cavern began to shake in turn. Grabbing Master Li, I picked up this ancient sage and spun around to start our escape before the whole cliff collapsed around our ears. Carrying my mentor in my arms, I staggered along the track leading outwards, as the earth ceaselessly shuddered beneath my boots.

I'd only managed a few steps forward when I was in turn seized by an unbreakable grip and lifted off my own feet. In the next instant, I was carried with blinding speed ahead through absolute darkness, until Master Li and I burst out into the open air, with the last rays of sunset fading away from the skies. Hearing a thunderous roar from behind, I glanced over my shoulder along with Master Li still in my arms also doing this. The cavern entrance, and also a good part of the cliff itself, was in the process of crumbling in a massive landslide which must've entirely smashed flat the inner cavern.

We were prudently transported a bit further on, to escape any tumbling boulders possibly coming near. The two of us stopped at the edge of the meadow where Master Li and I had started from just minutes ago. Glancing at each other in sheer relief, my mentor and I then realized something at the same time.

Our heads both tilted down, to look full into Buffy's face smirking upwards at us. She was still nonchalantly holding me up, my feet helplessly dangling above the ground, by one slender arm wrapped around my waist. Turning her head to mutter at a grinning Chao-Ahn at her side, Buffy derisively told her companion, "Men. I bet they don't ask for directions here, either."

Judging by the stars, it was a half-hour later at night when Master Li announced he was ready. We'd been taken by the Slayers, as we now knew them to be, to a small, sheltered hollow with a spring among the hillsides. Both women assured us there wasn't now any kind of vampire or demon around, so there appeared to be no problem with us sleeping rough there and heading to the nearest village in the morning to tell everyone the good news. After that, we'd travel back to Peking.

In the meantime, watched by us in the flickering light of the small campfire I'd built, Master Li laid out on the ground a sheet of fine paper he'd been carrying on him, among other things. A brush, inkstone, powdered ink, and a cupped handful of water were then all used for my mentor to put down his name in exquisite scholar's calligraphy upon this paper. I was next, and while I did my best, the inscription I put there could never be described as anything other than solid and dull. Kind of like me, as a matter of fact.

Still, once the ink had dried, Buffy picked up the paper and she peered at it, only to cheerfully shrug in clear bafflement on how to read it. Seated next to each other, Master Li and I traded glances out of the corners of our eyes, and in shared silent agreement, we decided not to tell the young lady she was holding it upside down. Our attention was drawn back by Buffy chuckling in that strange manner of hers, "Okay, this finishes off what we came here to do. Thanks, both of you! Ready to go, Chao-Ahn?"

Smiling as she stood up, the other woman indicated her agreement with an amiable nod. We also came to our feet and bowed goodbye to the pair, with Buffy clumsily imitating Chao-Ahn returning this. The yellow-haired lady then strode away with us, side-by-side with her Chinese companion. Both of them twisted around while departing to wave farewell one last time. They soon disappeared into the darkness, and that was the last we ever saw of them.

After standing there for a few more moments, we settled back again in our seats at opposite sides of the fire. Master Li pensively watched the flickering flames for a while, until I cleared my throat in a subtle hint.

His deeply-wrinkled face glancing up at me, my mentor absently said, "Oh, yes, Slayers. Well, Number Ten Ox, it starts like this: 'The world is older than you know…'"

* * *

Author's Note: If you want to know more about The Chronicles of Master Li and Number Ten Ox, try to find the trio of separate books or even better, the omnibus edition by The Stars Our Destination Press, either in hardcover or softcover, which prints _Bridge of Birds, The Story of the Stone,_ and _Eight Skilled Gentlemen, _all in one volume. This edition also has wonderful art by Kaja Foglio, including a fantastic silhouette frontispiece of a landscape with a running Ox carrying Master Li on his back and being guided by this sage with a slight flaw in his character. That directly inspired this story. Enjoy!


	13. Ahead To The Future Without Him, Please!

"I really thought you'd be better at that," groused Andrew, fulfilling his minimum daily requirement of stupidity.

Faith paused in the middle of her delicate manipulations with the slim metal rod she was holding. Only a quivering muscle on her cheek indicated just how much she was controlling her temper. In a dead-calm voice which would've still made Rambo change his damp camouflage underwear, the Slayer gritted, "It ain't like this type of damn car was all over the streets of Boston when I was livin' on my own there! Back then, I got a lotta practice breakin' inta less fancy heaps to swipe anythin' in 'em and later on, boostin' the whole thing for a chop shop! It still don't mean I can do it right away on the only one a' these I ever seen outside the movies! Now, shaddup, or I'll put yer head through the window, like I wanted ta in the first place!"

Sitting cross-legged on the bare ground next to the pile of cut bushes he'd dragged off their sought-for vehicle when Faith had been running her errand, Andrew made a disapproving face. He snottily replied in his usual death-wish fashion, "No, you won't. The same thing applies over me talking you into heading for the nearest town and bringing back something to open it. You break the window with a rock or anything else, it might disqualify us. Willow said we had to take pictures of us sitting in there, and it was hinted the car had to be in one piece during everything. Now, can you do it or not? We don't have all that much time before we have to cut our losses and go onto the next challenge."

Growling under her breath, the woman bent over her task, glumly trying again for the dozenth time. She began muttering to herself as nimble fingers worked, "This Marty McFly guy's for sure a lucky bastard, what with me missin' him in that one-horse town. He travels back in time ta the Old West, hides his ride under a butt-load a' branches which we gotta put back after everythin', and goes off tryin' ta be the big hero. Okay, fine, I can live with that. But not for what I'm seriously thinkin' of huntin' him down and kickin' his head in! The little shit hadda lock the damn doors!"

As if those last irritated words had been a magical incantation, Faith felt a click run through the thin piece of ironwork she'd earlier stolen from a blacksmith's forge. Leaving this object shoved deeply into the side of a famed vehicle to grope for the locking mechanism, the Slayer reached out to grip and pull on a door handle. In response, the gull-wing door of a seriously customized 1981 DeLorean DMC-12 now at last swung up to show off a former car thief's latest success in jimmying this open.


	14. What Does It Mean, Anyway?

That night, it was very quiet in the soldiers' barracks.

The adobe structure on the outskirts of the tiny village having a far grander name than it seemingly deserved was normally full of the inhabitants' cheerful chatter with each other after dark, involving the events of the day as these men performed their usual martial duties. Not that there were very many military tasks to be done around the place known as El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reyna de Los Angeles de Porciúncula. Daily, the contented soldiers blessed the saints over being sent to the sleepiest posting in all Mexico. The Indios were docile, the weather was perfect, and the local senoritas definitely liked a man in uniform.

Best of all, whenever they got bored, a certain avenger of injustice would show up and engage the small group of lower-ranking soldiers in a genuinely enjoyable round of chases, hunts, and bloodless affrays. Their black-clad adversary never actually hurt any of them, save for an occasional punch in the face. Frankly, they'd one and all been hit harder in various tavern brawls. This unknown foe also refrained from fatally wielding his superb weapon directly against his opponents, save for the numerous instances of a very flamboyant gesture upon anything within reach.

In turn, the soldiers soon came to a secret agreement amongst themselves. They at once developed remarkably bad aim whenever forced to fire their muskets at a costumed enemy wearing garments dyed in shades of deepest midnight. After all, why should their fun be spoiled so quickly? Not to mention how satisfying it was to see their commandante irately gnash his teeth at the amazing escapes of a taunting nemesis, often due to his subordinates' utter lack of skill with their firearms. Even more amusing was that Captain Monastario, despite all his cunning, never seemed to realize how much accuracy it required to shatter with their bullets every single flowerpot, bottle, dining plate, and other breakable objects next to a fleeing hero.

Speaking of their beloved leader, the subdued soldiers resting in their barracks continued to shoot wary looks at the closed door leading to El Capitan's office at the far end of the building. All there knew inside, their superior was sullenly working his way through a wine bottle, his already-aching head wrapped in a necessary bandage. Undoubtedly the next morning, Captain Monastario would wake up in a truly vile temper over the failure of his latest plan and take it out on anyone within range. Eh, that was part of a peasant's life and it still remained much better than having to perform backbreaking labor in the fields under a blazing sun.

In truth, it'd been a fine ruse, as everybody agreed. They'd trapped their quarry in the town's cantina an hour before sunset. Surrounded at one corner of the main room, with no possible way to avoid capture, a man in black had been held at bay. The soldiers having their muskets ready and feeling a bit saddened at the long-feared end to their pleasant diversion moved aside for Captain Monastario to strut forward and face his arch-enemy. The usual triumphant speech had only started being delivered by the commandante, loudly enough to be heard by all his audience. Which at that time included the others at the far side of the cantina, consisting of the innkeeper, a few of the town's residents, and two strangers.

These latter individuals were a pair of young women having come to town earlier today, and then entering the cantina a few minutes before. One of these females was fair and with brunette hair, well dressed but not excessively. Her companion, a Negress unquestionably the other's duenna, was naturally more modestly attired. Nobody had given them a further moment's notice. Not when the place was then flooded with soldiers about to at last seize hold of an eagerly-sought outlaw.

Until things then started to become most strange. For instance, the blanca had casually picked up her clay mug off the cantina table where she'd been sitting, and then hurled this cup with astonishing force across the room straight at Captain Monastario's head. Making a direct strike, the mug had promptly shattered, and their commanding officer limply collapsed face-down onto the dirt floor, remaining unconscious until it was all over.

Everyone else stood there frozen in absolute shock at such an unexpected occurrence. The next person to move was the first woman's companion, who then stepped up off the table bench shared with her charge, to stand atop this large furniture. Right after, this Negress had somehow leapt through the air all the way from the table to land next to their captive. Afterwards, Corporal Ramirez (who was among the few of their company still able to walk) wobblingly paced out the distance this woman had soared across the room. With the wreckage of the cantina around him, the non-commissioned officer declared in the name of God that what they'd just seen had been completely impossible.

Yet, their disbelieving gazes had all watched the flying woman descend in a swirl of skirts to stand by a stunned male dressed in clothing as dark as his rescuer's skin. Who herself then reached out to grab that man's shoulders and pull him into such a passionate kiss it caused a dazed hero to release his ready grip upon a weapon, allowing this to fall to the cantina floor. Eventually taking her lush mouth away from the masked champion showing eyes as wide as saucers past the strip of black cloth covering his face, the Negress had then blurringly stooped to snatch up the discarded weapon.

Upright again and facing each and every one of them, an insane woman spoke through teeth flashing white in a savage grin, "Who's first?" All while bringing up in salute an one-of-a-kind rapier worth a king's ransom.

Touching at their numerous bruises, the entire group of soldiers in the barracks glumly recollected the end result: a whole roomful of groaning, defeated men lying scattered around in the debris of a formerly intact drinking spot. With their leader just waking up to utter catastrophe. Topped off by the _really_ bad news of no sign whatsoever of a man and two women who'd been the cause of this latest disaster.

There was also the awkward matter of what'd happened to Sergeant Garcia-

As if the very thought of this corpulent NCO had summoned him, that man waddled through the door at the other end of the barracks leading to the outside latrines. Holding in his pudgy hands a bundle of cloth, Garcia appeared to have slightly recovered from his recent horrifying experience. The sergeant's unshaven face was still very pale, but he looked much more relieved. This mood of lessened anxiety made Corporal Ramirez risk asking with real concern, "You all right then, sergeant?"

The normally affable Garcia glowered at a subordinate dangerously close to insubordination, but he recognized the question had genuine worry in it. In turn, the overweight man gruffly replied, "Si, Ramirez. Whoever that bruja was, she's as good with a blade as our regular opponent. There wasn't a single scratch."

Ears pricked up all over the barracks at this last bit of news. While one or two of them had directly seen it and quickly told the other soldiers of what they'd witnessed, Sergeant Garcia had scuttled off too quickly to their quarters with his hands clapped over the damages for the rest to have their own chance. Still, now that he was here and seemingly in a much better temper…

Eager faces peered at Sergeant Garcia, who at first looked startled, and then truly grumpy. Even so, he instantly realized unless his troops got a peek, rumors of what was there would definitely thrive, lessening his authority among them. No, better to just get it all over with, no matter how ridiculous it was.

Giving a vast sigh, the sergeant standing there in his spare trousers shook out the bundle of cloth he held. This displayed to all there what had previously been the lower part of his uniform, a set of pants with the massive seat of this expertly slashed with a rapier's tip to produce upon the sliced material a very large single initial. To be specific, the letter 'R'.

At the same time about a mile or two away in the uninhabited wilderness during the last fading light of day, Dawn Summers was impatiently waiting in the middle of an ancient California coastal oak grove. Glancing around, her ire only increased at the sardonic thought that a few centuries from now, there'd certainly be a Los Angeles McDonald's right at this very spot. Finally deciding enough was enough, the Key yelled in total exasperation at the gleeful figure dancing among the gnarled oaks, slashing and stabbing at imaginary enemies with the rapier in her right hand.

"Will you come _on, _Rona! You carved your name on every tree in sight after Don Diego handed it over to you and then rode away on his horse, so get back here! It's time we left, and I'm getting really ticked off just hanging around with Willow's book, waiting for you to put Zorro's sword in there!"

* * *

Author's Note: This story is based on the 1957 Walt Disney Productions television series, not the movies or books. I wrote it with the following people in mind: Guy Williams as Don Diego/Zorro, Britt Lomond as Captain Monastario, and Henry Calvin as Sergeant Garcia (long may his girth increase). Enjoy!


	15. A Silence Where Hath Been No Sound

Glancing to the side from his seated position on a beach boulder overlooking the ocean, a very annoyed Xander watched his game partner come trotting down the steep side of the coastal hill where she'd been keeping an eye on the small group of people who'd recently left the vicinity. Drawing near an aggravated man perched atop his rock, Kennedy stopped in front of him, nonchalantly reporting, "Okay, they're out of sight. From how the movie goes, nobody will be back for a while We should have plenty of time."

"Time for _what?_" snapped Xander, with real exasperation now in his voice. He held up a witch's book in one hand, irritably shaking this tome in Kennedy's direction. "Wils was so vague in her instructions that I don't have any idea of what we're supposed to do! Plus, you kept shushing me every time I tried asking you, until those people we were watching left! Will you just please explain?"

The Slayer's mouth twisted in a wry smile at seeing how ticked off Xander was at this point. Still, she shrugged, "I'm not really sure myself, but I've got my own ideas about what she wrote, how 'Kennedy gets a chance to show Xander without anybody bothering them' should go."

Taking the man completely by surprise, Kennedy sardonically snickered for a few moments, before continuing, "Looks like my significant other finally outmaneuvered me! Willow's been trying to get me to do this for a while, but I didn't feel like it. Now, let's head over to the piano, and I'll tell you all about it."

Striding away towards the shoreline and what was there just before the water's edge, Kennedy heard from behind Xander stand up and hastily follow after the woman. Next came him saying in complete bewilderment, "What're you talking about, a piano?"

Slowing down a fraction from her companion to catch up, Kennedy turned her head to frown at the man now at her side, "Didn't you recognize them earlier when we stayed out of sight and watched?"

Keeping in step with Kennedy, Xander lifted a hand to casually wave this at his scarred face, "No Slayer super-keen eyesight here, Ken. All I could get from how far away we were was that there was a bunch of men and women, and one little girl."

"Oh." Kennedy seemed thoughtful for a moment, before going on, "Well, the woman was Holly Hunter, the girl was Anna Paquin, and two of the men were San Neill and Harvey Keitel."

Looking a bit blank as he walked along with his game partner, Xander shrugged, "I recognize most of 'em. Paquin from the X-men flicks, Neill from the Jurassic Park series, and Keitel from Taxi Driver, right? But I don't know the Hunter lady-"

Stopping short, Kennedy gaped at the man also halting in his tracks, before irately informing him, "She won the 1993 Oscar for Best Actress for her role in the film we're in! Xander, this place, this time-" (she wildly gestured at their beachside location) "-this is New Zealand around 1850, and it's the start of one of mine and Willow's favorite movies, _The Piano!_"

A sheepish Xander shook his head, responding with, "Sorry, Ken. It doesn't mean anything to me. As far as I know, Wils and I never watched it together."

Kennedy suspiciously eyed the man before her, who stared back in his simple honesty. Eventually, she said in a very pensive tone, "Now that I remember, I was the one to introduce the film to her. You really don't know what it's about?"

"Nope," succinctly answered Xander. Jerking a thumb towards the wooden box on the beach a hundred yards ahead, which was presumably their goal, the man suggested, "Why don't you tell me on our way, if it's got something to do with why we're here?"

"It does, now that you mention it," nodded Kennedy.

The pair of New Council members started walking together again. Taking a deep breath, the Slayer began her synopsis: "_The Piano_ is about Hunter as an 1850's woman named Ada who can't or won't talk. She uses sign language with her daughter - that's Paquin - to communicate with others, but Ada doesn't care about this. Playing her piano is a lot more important to her, and she'll do it as much as she can. Anyway, Ada got into an arranged marriage with Alistair, one of the guys we just saw, who's played by Neill. The ship which brought her and her daughter here in New Zealand left these two alone on this beach, along with their stuff and the piano, which didn't make Ada happy at all. Her new husband didn't like it either, with Alistair saying there wasn't any way to move the piano to his house, or even any room there for it. The rest of the film goes on to show how the piano affects all the characters' lives, right up to the end of the movie."

Listening intently to all of this, Xander pointed at the box they were now close to, saying doubtfully, "We're not here to, I dunno, swipe the piano?"

"NO!" yelped Kennedy, with an actual note of horror in her voice. Stopping before the crate, the young woman fervently declared, "That'd make the whole film totally pointless if it's gone!"

"Okay, okay," soothed Xander. He dubiously eyed the boxed piano for a few seconds, to then ask in absolute bafflement, "So, exactly what _are_ we supposed to do?"

Kennedy dryly corrected, "Not you, me."

She smirked at the confused man, just before mentioning, "There's one thing you might do first, though, Xander. Can you open the top of that box so we can put it back together later without it being noticed? In the movie, they'll return for the piano, and we can't let anybody know someone else was here."

Bending down to pull a knife out of his boot sheath, Xander straightened up with this blade in his hand, along with a confident assertion provided to Kennedy, "No problem."

The man walked once around the box, studying all the top planks, and then he began to carefully pry these off with the knife. Quickly finishing with Kennedy's help, the loose planks were dropped onto the sand by the opened box. Xander bent over to return his weapon back to its former position. When he was upright again, the Sunnydale native blinked at Kennedy offering him the video camera she'd been carrying in her pocket. After a moment's hesitation, he accepted this, with yet another expression of puzzlement on his face.

Giving him her own wry look, Kennedy snorted, "I'm certain Willow would be really cranky if she missed this. Okay, start filming."

"Uh, sure," Xander managed, holding the camera up to his features and starting it while aiming in the general direction of Kennedy standing in front of the piano on the starkly-beautiful beach. Through the view finding, Xander now watched the Slayer lift up and back the keyboard cover, and then place her graceful hands in the proper position on these black and white levers. Just when Xander began to realize what was about to take place, Kennedy started to flawlessly play the piano.

After a period beyond measure, the last poignant chord died away, and Kennedy gently replaced the keyboard cover. She turned to Xander still pointing the camera at her. Taking his finger off the operating button, Xander slowly lowered the recorder, revealing an awed face. Eventually, he whispered, "Wow. Kennedy, that was… Wow."

Giving him an appreciative little smile, Kennedy chuckled, "It wasn't too bad, I have to say. Now that Willow and I have a piano for me at our apartment in the castle, I finally got rid of the rust in my technique which started when I had to go to Sunnydale."

"Huh?" choked Xander. He tried again, "Kennedy, I didn't even know you could play at all! Much less like _that!_"

The Slayer's eyes sparkled at this heartfelt praise, but she said modestly enough, "Oh, I'm fairly talented for an amateur, but there's a real big difference between what I can do and a genuine professional, Xander. It's one of the few things I'm glad my parents pushed me into learning."

Xander's eyebrows rose. He knew like virtually all of the surviving Scoobies, the woman before him had little contact with her father and mother in New York City ever since the Sunnydale collapse, but he didn't know the full story. Not sure of what to say, the man sensibly stayed silent.

Seeing this, Kennedy sighed depreciatively, but she went on regardless, "My mom and dad never had much of a loving relationship with me, Xander. We're not very demonstrative in our family. As best as I can describe, it was mostly cordial. It didn't really help either when I came out as soon as I could. Anyway, my piano playing was something my folks thoroughly approved about, despite me getting away with refusing to perform for their friends on cue. I'd just play for them, and for me…until Willow. And now, you."

Straightening up, Xander now said as sincerely as he could, "Thank you, Kennedy."

"You're welcome, Xander," was spoken in equally honest gratitude.

Smiling kindly at the one-eyed man, Kennedy then impulsively offered, "When this game's over and we get back, why don't you come to dinner with us at, oh, Friday? I'll play for you and Willow afterwards."

A delighted ear-to-ear grin blossomed on Xander's face, as he instantly accepted, "You bet! Can we hear again what you just did?"

Her ripple of clear laughter ringing in the New Zealand air, Kennedy cheerfully responded, "I don't see why not. Okay, let's close it up again, and then get out of here to the next challenge."

The superhuman woman and her companion amiably began working together to restore the box's planks. A quick application of her Slayer strength with a thumb shoved the nails holding everything in place back into their original positions. Xander stepped back a pace to cast a critical eye over everything. He soon nodded with satisfaction.

A few moments later, after one last look around at the picturesque seascape, two people vanished in thin air. Left behind in the lonely location, a piano patiently awaited its next opportunity to touch the souls of those listening to this magical instrument.


	16. A Merry Scavenger Hunt To Us All!

_Crunch._

Twenty-nine.

_Crunch._

Thirty.

_Crunch._

Thirty-one.

_Rustle. Rustle._

Hmmm. It appeared as if Vi had finished off her third bag…

From behind Rupert Giles then heard the sound of paper being crumpled. Softer, less-distinct noises led the New Council Director to unerringly guess what was happening next. Without looking around from where he was propping a video camera on the upper wheel rim of a parked wagon while aiming this recorder in the proper direction, Giles sternly ordered in a cloud of frosty vapor puffing from his breath, "Put it away, Vi. You've had your share, and the rest of the treats stored in Willow's book are for the others at home."

"Aw, c'mon, Giles," wheedled his game partner surreptitiously returning to the pocket of her outing jacket the small magical object having a far vaster capacity than its tiny size seemed to warrant. Giving an awed look at somebody who seemed to have eyes in the back of his head currently topped with a warm coachman hat, Vi coaxingly tried again, "They won't miss a couple more. I mean, you bought a whole cartload!"

"I'm more than familiar with Slayer appetites, young lady," dryly responded Giles. He said this while never taking away his steady watch on the upper front window of the dingy counting house across the street. There, the first rays of the winter morning sun were catching the very highest roof shingles, unlike lower down in the side lane off the main concourse where he and Vi were waiting in the pre-dawn gloom.

Still keeping his gaze fixed there through the cold air of the last week of December 1843, Giles continued, "Besides having to sign off on the food bills for the castle every month, Buffy used to end her Sunnydale patrols with myself by entirely cleaning out my apartment refrigerator before going home. You're quite capable of consuming to the very last scrap all of the roast chestnuts I just purchased, Vi."

Instead of replying to this sardonic rejoinder, Vi naughtily stuck out her tongue at Giles' back in his full-length woolen coat. Leaning against the brick building wall on her right in the narrow side lane, the warrior woman crossed her arms, putting her hands inside the knitted gloves she was wearing into the armpits of her own ladies' jacket. Shifting her booted feet in the inch or so of new snow lying on the lane's cobblestones, Vi took another sniff at the chilly atmosphere containing various strong scents. She easily identified the reek of burning coal from house fires, cooking stoves beginning to produce the day's breakfasts, and among the basic neighborhood sanitary system the overpowering odor of horses and these equines' natural byproducts. Vi tried to imagine what it smelled like at the height of summer in Victorian times, and she shuddered at the very thought.

Hopefully smacking her lips for a remaining crumb of that really delicious snack she'd just eaten, Vi asked, "Hey, Giles, how come nobody's selling roast chestnuts in London any more? I don't remember seeing any in the shops or food carts when I did my Christmas shopping here last year."

"Oh, they do, but you have to know where to look," absently replied the older man. He still held the camera ready, since it could happen any second now…

At the sudden, impatient grunt of interest coming from further back in the side lane, Giles was forced to expand on his explanation. "Roast chestnuts were much more common back then- I mean, now. But a worldwide blight wiped out all those trees in your country, and it did some damage here, too. Those nuts stopped being a regular treat sold on the London streets and in other English cities. Now, they're a more upmarket snack food. You can buy them from the stores, though from all accounts, they're reputed to be a mere shadow of their former flavor."

Vi sadly shook her head. "Too bad," she commiserated towards her companion.

"Yes, well," Giles admitted, "that's why I brought them all from that man pushing his cart with its roasting oven. So, if you don't mind, please refrain from devouring any more. Let the others have their own chance."

"Okay, okay," agreed Vi a bit grumpily. She soon brightened after a moment's thought, telling Giles, "Maybe I can cadge a spare bag from one of the girls. Some of 'em owe me a couple favors, and this'll pay it off."

After those last optimistic words, Vi wandered towards where the somberly-clad man was still intently peering across the street. She stopped by him to also look through the gap between the left side of the lane and her boss's body wearing his own winter clothing provided by Willow when they were transported here to fulfill their latest scavenger hunt challenge.

As if Giles had just been thinking about this, he asked without taking his eyes away from the house beyond, "I don't suppose your Slayer essence senses anything unusual occurring over there?"

"Nope," came from Vi also shaking her head. She went on thoughtfully, "Anyway, it's only a couple of ghosts, right? No vamps or other demons, so I don't think even Buffy or Faith could do it. At least, that's what the Sunnydale stories say."

Giles himself lifted his shoulders in an acknowledging shrug. "We did run into several spirits at one time or the other back then. Among these encounters were a student and a teacher haunting the school after dying years before. I can't remember offhand if Buffy was aware of those ghosts' presence prior to them taking over the bodies of her and Angelus. Still, from what the book mentions, it should have already been finished, with him waking up and beginning the story's closing moments."

Vi and Giles continued to watch together the quiescent house across the street, whose sole living inhabitant seemed to be stubbornly sleeping in today. Eventually, the Slayer asked, "Who do you think he's going to be? If we're in a film or tv movie, and not the book, I mean."

"I still have no idea as to which," confessed Giles. He further noted, "Our surroundings certainly aren't as hygienic as presented by any cinematic adaptation, but it doesn't necessarily suggest the short novel, either. Though, if it's the former, I wouldn't mind seeing Alistair Sim, since he was the first actor I ever watched who played the role. That version's even now one of the best ever among the numerous remakes."

Vi had to grin while reminiscing, "It was the guy from _Patton _for me. Uh, what was his name… Oh, right, George C. Scott."

"A fine performance, indeed," Giles allowed. The Englishman then grimaced, "Thank God we're definitely in Victorian times and in real life, because I would really prefer not to witness Bill Murray or a Disney animated character walking around as-"

All around the pair of New Council members, church bells started to loudly ring, drowning out whatever Giles had been about to say. This former Watcher instantly became alert at the sudden recollection of what one of the greatest writers ever born had put down in his story long ago. Giles quickly turned on the video recorder, just in time to catch the upper floor window being opened in haste. There, standing for all to see, was a man dressed in his bedtime cap and nightgown, joyfully staring out at the golden sunlight; heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious. Glorious!

Standing by her game partner, a happy Vi put a hand resting lightly on his shoulder, and while Giles continued to get everything on tape, they both witnessed Ebenezer Scrooge celebrate Christmas Day.


	17. Not The One With Janssen Or Ford

"Doo-doo-DOO-doo," Buffy sardonically hummed.

Sending over her shoulder a quizzical look at the blonde Slayer back there for making that very strange noise, Chao-Ahn then returned her attention to what she'd been about to do an instant before. Cautiously reaching out with her right hand, the Chinese girl waggled it a few times in front of another woman's extremely stern face. This action failed to induce any kind of response from the homely female sitting totally immobile in her living room armchair.

Pulling back her hand while straightening up from her slight stoop, Chao-Ahn thoughtfully looked down at the unmoving older woman presently taking no apparent notice of two complete strangers now inside her sparsely-furnished apartment. After a few more seconds, the frozen woman sluggishly blinked, and then she returned to her unnatural stillness, save for the barely perceptible rise and fall of her scrawny chest.

Glancing away from the blank stare of this hard-faced woman, Chao-Ahn turned around and raised an inquiring eyebrow at where a smirking Buffy was standing in the middle of the room. When her warrior sister continued to do nothing but smugly smile, Chao-Ahn finally had enough. She edgily said, "All right, Buffy, what's the story?"

"Ah!" briskly replied Buffy, lifting a finger at a startled Chao-Ahn in an admonishing gesture. Next bewilderingly came from the former Sunnydale High student a gleeful recital: "You're traveling through another dimension - a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead; your next stop the-"

"_Buffy!_" Chao-Ahn irritably snapped, "You sound like you're having fun, but I'm not! Just please tell me what's going on."

The Los Angeles native pouted for a moment at being cut off before finishing her delivery of one of television's most famous narrations. Buffy quickly became more serious after regarding Chao-Ahn glowering back at her, a clear sign this foreign-born young woman was starting to have her patience come to an end. Sheepishly shrugging, Buffy admitted, "Okay, so you probably don't know it. I think Willow put us here as a special favor for me, anyway."

Chao-Ahn had to blink at the last bit of news, but she continued listening while Buffy went on. "This is the short version: about forty, fifty years ago, there was a television show here called _The Twilight Zone,_ with all kinds of science fiction and fantasy stories. It was really entertaining, so much that people still watch it, and not only on tape or DVD's. When I was growing up, the local tv channels presented marathons of the whole series, usually during July Fourth or Labor Day weekend. Well, when that happened, I always made sure to watch one very special episode, and we're in it right now."

"We are?" asked Chao-Ahn with some surprise. She doubtfully eyed the woman in the armchair, who still hadn't moved. Chao-Ahn waved a tentative hand at this stranger, venturing, "Is she - how she's acting - part of it?"

Buffy firmly nodded. "Oh, yeah! Don't worry, Jenny's aunt won't remember anything, and what's happened to her will probably wear off soon. We'll be long gone, then."

With more than a hint of exasperation in her tone, Chao-Ahn began, "Buffy-"

Holding up her hands palm outwards in mock surrender, Buffy started to cheerfully explain. "We're in the episode called 'The Fugitive.' The main character's a lonely little girl with a bad leg who has to live with her cranky aunt."

Buffy paused to tilt her head in the direction of the unresponsive seated woman, before resuming, "Jenny - that's the girl - has just one friend, a grandfatherly-type guy who lives upstairs and whose room we just visited. He's called Old Bob, and Jenny and the neighborhood kids know something about him the adults don't, that he can do all kinds of impossible stuff. Such as changing his body to look like a scary monster from outer space to play Spacemen and Aliens with the kids. Later in the episode, Old Bob tells Jenny his big secret, that he really is from another planet, which is how he can do those things."

Caught up in the story, Chao-Ahn eagerly waited for more. Buffy took a deep breath and went on, "To prove it, Old Bob fixes Jenny's crippled leg, but this results in two other aliens catching him while they zapped Jenny's aunt here to keep her quiet. Jenny herself is protected by Old Bob, who also confesses to his friend he's not a criminal, but instead the king of their planet. After doing that boring job for so long, he got totally sick of it and sneaked away to take a vacation. The other aliens tell Jenny everyone at home is waiting to have their king back, because they all love him just like she does. Jenny wants to come with Old Bob, but that's against the rules."

"So, what happens?" asked an engrossed Chao-Ahn when Buffy had another breather.

A wide smile blossoming on her face, Buffy chuckled to her companion, "Jenny comes up with a great plan. She and Old Bob head off to another room to say goodbye in private, but when other two aliens go to find what's keeping them, those guys see nothing less than a pair of little girls! Jenny got Old Bob to change into looking like her identical twin sister! And because there's no way to tell them apart now, those best friends get to stay together when everyone leaves for Old Bob's home."

For the next minute or so, the set of Slayers in the living room shared their loud delight at a truly clever scheme. Finally quieting down, Buffy confided to a still-giggling Chao-Ahn, "But the absolutely best part was at the end of the episode, where Rod Serling, the host and creator of _The Twilight Zone,_ shows us a picture of what Old Bob really looks like: one hell of a handsome young royal guy, who'll one day marry Jenny and make her his queen!"

Beaming at how Chao-Ahn broke up again in uncontrollable hilarity, Buffy glanced at where the woman affected by alien technology still paid no attention to her visitors. Even if it wasn't ever mentioned in the television episode, Buffy was sure this uncaring aunt wouldn't remember in the future about her missing niece, or even that she'd ever had a child staying with her in the first place.

"I can see why you like it, Buffy," then came from Chao-Ahn happily wiping at her eyes. Turning back to look at the Chinese Slayer, Buffy next heard from her, "Does Willow know about this?"

"Oh, you bet, Chao-Ahn," Buffy gladly answered. She grinned, "A few Christmases ago, in our first year at the castle, I got a complete set of _The Twilight Zone_ DVD's from her with this episode on them. That's why I knew exactly what we were in when her spell sent us to this dimension, and also in this house. I thought maybe we were supposed to film the whole scene in the park where Old Bob transforms into the space monster, until I read in Wil's book what I was supposed to do. Sorry for not telling you right away."

Chao-Ahn good-naturedly shrugged. "That's all right, Buffy. When the scavenger hunt's over, why don't we watch the episode together in your apartment? I'd really like to see it in person."

Perking up at this chance to fully share one of her favorite shows with a good friend, Buffy enthusiastically agreed, "It's a date! Not to mention we'll have a really great souvenir on hand throughout it all, because I'm going to display that on top of the tv when the episode's running!"

Buffy then proudly pointed, and Chao-Ahn's gaze followed, towards a specific object lying on the coffee table in the living room. The blonde Slayer had put it there several minutes ago after finding this in an upstairs wastebasket and bringing it along with her and the other superhuman woman when they'd come down to the aunt's residence.

Once a representation of pain and limitations, Jenny's orthopedic appliance now rested unneeded on this apartment furniture. That discarded leg brace from a formerly lame little girl had instead become a symbol of true love for a lonely child, who'd at last found someone to treasure…in the Twilight Zone.


	18. Na Na Na Na Na Na Andrew!

Supremely confident, Andrew bustled over to an antique table in the middle of the luxuriously furnished den, and he reached out with both hands for a bust of Shakespeare resting on this piece of furniture. A quick tug of the man's fingers lifted up and back the head of the small statue, unexpectedly revealing an electrical switch in the neck of the bust. Uttering an elated whimper of true fulfillment, Andrew immediately pressed the switch.

Watching all this with total bafflement, Faith's attention was at once attracted by a motion seen beyond the table at the far wall. There, a tall bookcase soundlessly slid open sideways to reveal a secret passageway. The two fireman's poles running below from the top of the vertical shaft clearly indicated what the pair of New Council members were supposed to use to travel below into a caped crusader's lair.

A very happy smile now on his face, Andrew headed straight for one of the fireman's poles. He stopped short only when Faith burst out in a rare moment of caution, "Hey, wait a damn minute! What 'bout security and ID shit, even if nobody's here right now in the whole place Red just sent us? It can't be that easy, us walkin'-" The Slayer paused in her remarks, to then start again after correcting herself, "-slidin' down there!"

Turning around, the man beamed at where Faith was standing by the table and giving the poles her most suspicious glower. Andrew reassured his game partner, "Oh, it was a more innocent time then, Faith. The show never bothered with anything like that." He cocked a dubious eyebrow at a still-unconvinced woman, before telling her, "I still can't believe you've never seen the Batman tv series with Adam West and Burt Ward!"

"Beats me," shrugged Faith. "Prob'ly missed it when growin' up in Boston. I just know 'bout those two from the comics and the movies, with that Keaton dude and the others later on, until the sequels started gettin' crappier and I lost interest."

Opening his mouth to begin an indignant fan-boy defense of one of his idols, Andrew hastily reconsidered at the memory of a certain movie costume with its built-in nipples. All right, so maybe Faith had something of a point. But not about _this_ decades-old television show, with its tongue-in-cheek humor and fight scenes with "POW!" and "BAM!" superimposed, and best of all, the star villain of the week! Andrew had always enjoyed that program since he'd been a kid, and now he was really in it, courtesy of Willow's scavenger hunt!

Feeling another thrill of delight run down his spine, Andrew came to himself and he excitedly waved a hand at the fireman's poles. "Listen, Faith, all we have to do to finish the challenge is to get to the Batcave under us and start looking. It'll be a piece of cake! Best of all, we'll do it faster than anything else today!"

Sending his most assertive smirk towards Faith, Andrew marched over to the secret passageway and latched onto one of the poles. While still grinning at the Slayer, this young man slid downwards, soon disappearing from sight. Though, not from hearing, since right after, an overjoyed male's "YIPPEEE!" floated up into the den.

"Huh," muttered Faith skeptically. She scratched her chin in thought, before at length shrugging with reluctant acceptance. The king of dorks was damn right 'bout one thing. The pair of 'em were runnin' outta time for the stupid game they were playin', so all she hadda do was to follow Andrew. After that, Red's instructions in her li'l book would be finished quicker than a wink, without any kind of fuss or bother in findin' what they had to collect. Sure as hell woulda be a lot different than mosta what her and Mr. Geek hadda go through today.

Making up her mind, Faith went after Andrew, grabbing onto the other fireman's pole than the one her game partner had recently used. As she began her sliding descent, Faith allowed herself a faint grin. This was actually kinda fun-

What next came out of the secret passageway was a very surprised feminine shriek.

Several minutes later, a now-furious Faith snarled in her deadliest tone towards a pale Andrew backing away, "I oughta fuckin' kill ya! Ya didn't think ta take a goddamn second ta tell me 'bout what was gonna happen?"

Frantically tugging up his domino mask to present his most remorseful look possible on a now-revealed face, Andrew wailed, "How could I have known? All that was ever shown on the series was a quick jump cut from Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson on the poles to Batman and Robin wearing their costumes in the Batcave! It wasn't until years later that it was suggested those two automatically changed their clothes when sliding down, and I never dreamed it was really true!"

Ripping back her own loose cowl, Faith shook an irate fist in its oversized glove at her cowering partner, "Ya asshole, I almost wrecked the damn thing when it grabbed me!"

Standing there draped in a much-too-large Batman costume, the Slayer then menacingly continued, "Ya know what's really the most upsettin' part of it all? I saw the rest of the machine workin' away at the other pole, which means both of 'em stripped and suited up at the same time! Betcha ya never saw _that_ between commercials!"

"Er, there's always been some gossip about those characters…" Andrew trailed off at Faith's truly baleful glare sent his way. He desperately began again, "Look, we did what Willow told us, getting authentic Batman and Robin costumes! Let's just change back and head onto the next challenge, okay?"

Instead of responding right away, Faith huffily snatched up her original clothes neatly folded and waiting in the delivery hatch of the Batoutfit-Swapper (Pat. Pending) by the bottom side of the secret passageway. Remaining there, Faith then growled at her companion with no hint whatsoever of forgiveness or toleration in her tone, "Ya find yer _own_ private spot! I'm gonna stay here and get busy undressin', so fuck off!"

Edging by a simmering Faith to seize his own clothes laying there, the badly out-of-shape man currently dressed in a red shirt, yellow cape, and other accouterments then scuttled away further into the Batcave. During this, Andrew sent up a hasty thanks to the heavens that he hadn't been pounded into a quivering heap of agony by a very angry woman. He never saw the hostile expression directed at his retreating back by Faith abruptly turn into a look of pure revulsion.

Closing her eyes in a vain attempt to scrub from her brain the horrible vision of what she'd just seen, Faith shudderingly thought, *Holy hell, anybody with such a flabby butt and those pasty white thighs should never, _ever _wear tighty shorts! Green or any other color, it don't matter, for Chrissakes!*


	19. Godfrey Daniels! It's Gone!

Strolling together through the deserted streets of the small California town of Lompoc, a sardonic Rona could help pointing out to Dawn at her side, "This _is_ breaking the law, you know that."

The younger Summers sister just kept on grinning. This ear-to-ear smile had lasted ever since they'd slipped away from the large crowd consisting of the entire town's population in front of City Hall. Back there, these people had been congratulating their native hero for his role in the capture of a gang of bank robbers, and they looked to be heaping fulsome praise for a good while yet on this man with a very unique proboscis.

Dawn happily replied, "Hey, it isn't a bona fide scavenger hunt until somebody commits an actual misdemeanor during it, at the very least. In fact, the hallowed traditions of that game mean we really should be stealing it in the middle of the night with both of us dead drunk."

"Pass," Rona snorted, rolling her eyes. She glanced over at where Dawn was giggling to herself, and the Slayer broke into her companion's mirth, "Is that what this is going to be, a mis- what you said?"

Dawn calmed down a little to think this over. The young woman finally allowed, "Depends on how the local authorities view the whole thing. If they don't consider it all that important, anybody the police catch doing it might wind up paying a minor fine with no jail time. That's one end of the scale, though. I'm not sure if the laws here in the thirties will be the same as seventy years or so from now. But, if the book's thrown at someone arrested for what we're going to do, they could face federal charges, including a couple of years in prison."

"Oh, goody, that makes me feel better," snarked Rona. At Dawn's cheerful shrug, the black girl squinted towards her accomplice before asking suspiciously, "How come you know all this? I thought you avoided doing anything but shoplifting back in the 'Dale."

Abruptly grimacing in her quick change of mood, Dawn grumbled, "Nobody's ever going to let me live that down, are they? Anyway, you weren't even there in Sunnydale for it! The whole First Evil business with you and the rest of the Potentials showing up at our home was a long time after I had my bad girl phase! Let me guess, somebody opened their big mouth-"

Now it was Rona's turn to grin. She chuckled, "Me and the other girls had to pass the time somehow, squeezed up like sardines in Buffy's cramped house. We cornered Xander and Andrew whenever we got the chance, getting what stories we could from them about the others around. Say, did you ever learn that Andrew's stupid supervillain team was secretly watching the Scoobies with surveillance cameras all over town? They caught you on tape fair and square a few times pocketing some stuff."

Dawn wordlessly groaned, shaking her head in sheer exasperation. She glowered at where Rona was walking at her side and snickering at the Key's annoyed expression. Eventually, Dawn grudgingly said, "Anya spotted me doing it once. Instead of telling Buffy, she just yelled at me for my horrible technique, and then she had me copy by hand the thickest law book I'd ever seen, with every kind of crime and their penalties inside it. It took a full week, and I thought my fingers were going to cramp up for the rest of my life. That's one reason why I stopped."

Rona's loud guffaws rang throughout the empty neighborhood. Everyone else but the two young women walking down the sidewalk were still at the celebratory gathering this pair had recently left. Though, not before Dawn had surreptitiously recorded on her video camera a very inimitable person basking in the admiration of all there. Trying to ignore the Slayer's gleeful delight, Dawn looked ahead, to see if she could identify their destination from what she remembered enjoying in a certain black-and-white movie comedy.

Thankfully, the game partners in Willow's Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt at last found themselves in front of the specific item they were supposed to acquire in their latest challenge. Standing there by the white picket fence before a modest house, Dawn and Rona cautiously scanned the surrounding area for any possible witnesses to the crime they were about to commit. Nobody else was in sight, so Rona reach out to take hold-

Pausing in the middle of her theft, Rona doubtfully inquired, "Hey, Dawnie, you still sure about this? We take it, someone's gonna have to replace it, and I don't really want to bother a guy I find a hell of a lot of fun."

Making one last check of their environs and spotting a side alley where they could put their prize in Willow's book and then head onto the next challenge, Dawn absently responded, "It'd be really great to hear first-hand his annoyed reaction to it, you have to admit. Although, remember how the film ends? Him and his family, after they get rich, the whole bunch moves to another, bigger, and more expensive house. So, they'd have to get a new one, anyway. Either by throwing this away or leaving it for the next people to live here. And you can be absolutely certain the new tenants won't have _that_ name!"

"Good point," a relieved Slayer conceded. Reaching out once more, Rona firmly gripped the mailbox attached to the fence, and then with a quick jerk of her superhuman muscles, she easily yanked it free.

Cradling in her arms the small, rectangular box for residential mail, Rona joyfully read the name painted on the side. It identified for all to see the man living there who was the main character of the supremely side-splitting movie known as _The Bank Dick, _as played by W.C. Fields:

EGBERT SOUSÈ

Rona looked up to meet Dawn's equally thrilled gaze. With perfect timing, the two women then recited in their reverent chorus, "Accent grave over the 'e', please."


	20. ThThThat's All, Scoobies!

In their crouching positions concealed from sight behind a large boulder, Xander and Kennedy tensed, ready for a once-in-a-lifetime event. Despite their utter concentration, they were eager for their cues.

At the proper moment when one of the three animated figures in the clearing ahead reached up and grabbed for the poster nailed onto a tree, Kennedy declared under her breath in a faultless Brooklyn accent, "Duck season!"

Xander had to wait for his turn, since he'd lost when Kennedy picked stone and crushed his scissors. Still, while the dark figure on the far right made his move, the one-eyed man gleefully announced in an identical muted tone but with enough of a lisp to match the original, "Wabbit season!"

A wide grin now upon the Slayer's face, Kennedy turned her head to look directly at Xander, happily delivering to him while still in character, "Duck season!"

In the same joyous mood, but with enough prudence to avoid spraying her with saliva, Xander mock-indignantly targeted his own adversary, "Wabbit season!"

And so it went, in perfect time to the sound from over there of ripping paper, as numerous posters were torn off, to at last reveal the grand surprise. This then caused an ominous silence to descend in the clearing.

Cautiously peeking over the boulder, Kennedy and Xander could still see the look of worried alarm flash over the chubby features of the remaining figure there, with him next beginning to apprehensively back away. A second later, gunshots rang out in the forest, forcing the New Council members to wisely drop behind their boulder for protection against any stray bullets.

When quiet returned to the setting of the Warner Brothers cartoon known as _Rabbit Fire, _the two humans rose to their feet. Sharing a delighted glance, this pair walked over to the now-deserted spot where the finale of this uproarious short film had played out.

Stopping in front of a certain tree, Xander warned, "Careful!" in his sudden jitters over any potential damage coming to what they'd been told to collect.

Kennedy didn't bother to answer, just giving her game partner an exasperated glance out of the corner of her eye. She then dug a fingernail under the pins holding fast a poster attached to this tree. Loosening the pins one-by-one, these finally came free and she peeled the intact notice off the tree's trunk. Proudly examining what was in her hands, Kennedy displayed it for Xander at her side, who himself had Willow's book wide open to allow their prize to be placed inside this magical container.

The man triumphantly smirked at seeing the ultimate souvenir, a printed picture of an everlastingly unsuccessful hunter, with just two simple words below the photograph: ELMER SEASON.

Their gazes meeting in sudden certitude, Xander and Kennedy turned as one to solemnly quote in chorus as their respective characters of Daffy Duck and Bugs Bunny to the fourth wall of their animated dimension: "Be very, very quiet - we're hunting Elmers!"


	21. But He Was Very Clean!

After buying the show tickets from an exceptionally furtive elderly man, Giles and Vi joined the lengthy queue consisting of a lot of teenage girls giggling together while ignoring the pair having a conversation.

"Did you ever get to see them, Giles?"

"When the film came out, yes. If you meant in person, then sadly no. I had one or two opportunities back then, Vi, but I always passed up the chance, much to my deepest regrets now."

"Hmmm… What others would you have gone to?"

"Well, I did the Stones, of course-"

"No, no! I'm talking about the imaginary kind, not the real bands."

"Pardon? We're here to see the most famous rock group ever. They are and were real enough."

"Let me put it this way, Giles. If Willow hadn't sent us here, what other fictional band from any film would you have picked for your second choice to enjoy in our scavenger hunt?"

"Oh, I see. A rather good question, that. Nothing comes to mind at the moment. Do you have any suggestions?"

"How about Spinal Tap?"

"I did my fair share of eardrum annihilation in the sixties, pressing my head up to the amplifiers, enough to treasure what hearing I have left. I'll pass on the volume level set at eleven, thank you very much. Besides, there's never any way to guarantee they'll be able to perform. Not when their drummers have an unfortunate tendency to die on them."

"Good point. Okay, how about The Commitments?"

"Too inexperienced for my tastes during most of the film. Though, they were beginning to improve when they broke up."

"Yeah, you're right about that. Um… Do you know Buckaroo Banzai and The Hong Kong Cavaliers?"

"Who? I'm sorry, Vi, but I've never heard of them."

"I'll have to show you the film. You might like it. So, what else? Oh, there's Eddie and the Cruisers."

"Springsteen did the Jersey bar band scene far better in real life. Plus, they had only one real success, and it hit a little too close to home for me."

"What? Right, 'On The Dark Side.' I can see your point. I suppose the same thing applies to Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains?"

"Most definitely. I deal with angry young ladies every day in my job. I don't really need to watch them portray a teenage punk band for my entertainment."

"Coward. How about something more wholesome, like Josie and the Pussycats?"

"Now you're just being silly, Vi."

"No, silly would've been putting you in the front row for Wyld Stallyns. Heh, heh, heh…"

"Dawn and Xander blackmailed me into a Bill and Ted marathon one night in Sunnydale. I never thought I'd actually feel sorry for Death."

"Okay, I give up. Isn't there iany/i other rock band in the movies you'd also like to see?"

"As it happens, yes, though they started out in television at first. I wouldn't mind- Oh, the doors are open! Let's try to find a good spot inside to get them on tape, Vi."

Swept along by the eager London crowd into the television theatre auditorium, the two New Council members were soon jubilantly experiencing the sheer joyfulness of John, Paul, George and Ringo performing their songs at the finale of _A Hard Day's Night._

Letting the high-spirited music wash over him, an elated Rupert Giles continued to bask in his utter delight. Not even the prospect for later when Violet would most certainly ask him what he'd been about to mention could dampen his happy mood. Perhaps he'd be fortunate enough for her to forget this, and a staid, mature gentleman wouldn't have to confess his secret fondness for a certain music group with undoubtedly the greatest band name of all time: Dr. Teeth and The Electric Mayhem from _The Muppet Show._


	22. Didn't You Forget Something?

It was easy enough for the utterly silent pair of Slayers to escape anyone's notice. Skulking through the shadows of the massive cavern they'd just been sent into by Willow's book, Buffy and Chao-Ahn adroitly avoided the attention of a waiting mastermind and his army of robed minions. Instead, the young women joined these same baddies in watching an unknowing hero start to remove a mystical weapon and its accessories from a display stand. Carefully keeping their gazes on the nasty piece of work running the whole show, both Slayers quickly stuck their fingers in their ears when this villain drew, aimed, and fired a pistol.

_Bang!_

Flinching away from the ricochet which had struck the side of the display stand to zip further away into the cavern, Jackie Chan, alias the Asian Hawk, whirled around. He warily stared into the cave's darkness where this bullet had come from. Ignoring the five Armour of God pieces he'd just been about to steal back, this mercenary adventurer advanced, correctly figuring if whoever was out there had wanted him dead, this would've already happened. In a sudden flare of lights, the marital arts expert now saw who was waiting for him.

To be more precise, Jackie didn't see Buffy and Chao-Ahn, and neither did anyone else. Taking advantage of the opportunity now presented to them, these Slayers again crept past any potential observers, who were themselves eagerly watching and listening to the defiant conversation between their leader and his latest adversary. It took mere moments for the two superhuman women to arrive at the display stand and its presumably supernatural contents. There, while being overlooked by everybody, Chao-Ahn and Buffy coolly purloined all five pieces of this centuries-old and immensely valuable set of arms.

Giving an approving swing of the large sword she was holding, Buffy felt a faint tingle in her fingers clasping the hilt, indicating there might actually be some truth to the rumor this weapon had magic laid upon it to help its wielder in battle against mystical evil. She silently grinned at Chao-Ahn holding open Willow's book, getting in turn an equally gleeful smile from her game partner. The blonde woman then effortlessly inserted a blade nearly as long as she was tall into a six-inch book.

Closing the Red Witch's tome now successfully containing their latest accomplished challenge, Chao-Ahn tilted her head at the noise of rising voices further on, sounding as if things were about to start in this specific part of the movie. The Chinese Slayer nodded at Buffy, who responded by willingly turning and making her way, followed by her companion, towards the closest place in the cavern where they could watch the coming excitement in complete privacy.

Indeed, the next few minutes were really entertaining for the pair of Jackie Chan fans. They thrilled to the real-life contest of the engaging Asian hero against four female killing machines, who were all dressed in clinging black leather outfits, tights, and high-heeled shoes. When the last of these unsuccessful assassins bit the dust, Buffy glanced over at Chao-Ahn's beaming face. It was clear the other woman felt pure joy at finally seeing one of her most favorite movie characters in action. Buffy herself had to admit it'd been fun, but after watching Jackie now face off against his enemies by suddenly ripping open his shirt to produce a dynamite vest, she dryly whispered to her game partner, "Chao-Ahn, I'd take that guy on right away as a trainer for the baby Slayers, but not for anything else! He can't keep his mind on the job!"

Ruefully wincing at seeing Jackie accidentally light a stick of dynamite and then begin his frantic efforts to extinguish this, Chao-Ahn got Willow's book ready for them to go onto the next challenge, if they had time for this. Together giving one last amused glance at Jackie hurling the lit dynamite away and then finding out the rest of the fuses on his dangerous vest were ominously sputtering away, the Slayers disappeared from the cavern. This was lucky for them, since the exploding dynamite began the process of causing the entire room's stone ceiling to collapse behind Jackie sprinting for safety. All without this hero ever bothering to realize he'd just lost under uncounted tons of rock the whole reason for his daring actions!

* * *

Author's Note: Well, it's true. After spending most of the film called _Armour of God _trying to get his hands on this treasure, it ends with Jackie at the finale squandering his entire purpose of the last ninety-plus minutes! What's even worse, because our hero talked the owner of three priceless pieces of the complete set of arms to use these valuables in exchange for a kidnapped friend (it's complicated, okay?), now that those parts of the set were buried and/or destroyed due to his carelessness, Jackie's on the hook for every penny!

It's kind of like Luke Skywalker still managing to blow up the Death Star, only for the tremendous blast in outer space to also take out the planet he was supposed to be protecting besides…


	23. When The Password Isn't 'Swordfish'

It was now official. Andrew Wells could make _anything_ dorky.

Including a fedora, that supremely stylish headgear worn by such debonair masters of cool as Frank Sinatra, Cary Grant, and Johnny Depp. At present, this same type of hat tilted at a raffish angle on Andrew's head, all in a vain attempt to make him look sophisticated and dangerous, instead had all the ludicrous equivalency of racing stripes being painted on a 1970 AMC Gremlin.

Glumly trailing along after her brash companion while he strutted down the darkened Hollywood alley, Faith had to admit to herself that Red was doin' some damn fine payback. Yeah, okay, it might've been a kinda bad idea years ago in Sunnydale to hold this li'l witch hostage in the Mayor's office to force the Scoobies into handing over what her then-boss had lost to them before his attempted Ascension. The Boston native ruefully conceded things like that could lead to a red-haired gal still holdin' a really strong grudge 'gainst a certain Slayer over it.

Over the day, these dark suspicions had developed in Faith's mind concerning exactly how she'd wound up with the walking disaster in front as her game partner. A couple of hours ago in the castle conference room, Willow Rosenberg tossed a pair of dice to randomly create five two-person groups to compete against each other. It seemingly had been on the absolute up-and-up at the time. However, in Faith's delinquent past, she'd met one or two gamblers with enough skill in throwing the bones to make these dice show whatever numbers which were wanted. And those guys had been merely human. Someone with all the huge mystical might as the Red Witch, that other woman would have had no trouble doing the same, and in the process, also settling a few scores.

Moodily considering this, Faith soon shook her head in genuine respect at such a first-rate piece of retaliation. *Can't say I don't deserve it, but still, bein' stuck with goddamn Andy? Managed to avoid him pretty much ever since the bottom dropped outta Sunnyhell. Red musta spotted back then or after, how he always set my teeth on edge. One thing or 'nother kept me from stompin' him flatter than a pancake, and now I can't do it in our stupid scavenger hunt. So far, he ain't screwed up alla that bad, but if he does and makes us lose, I'm gonna seriously kick his ass anyways.*

All of these ruminations had flashed through Faith's brain much more quickly than it took to narrate this. Bringing her attention once more to the untidy surroundings of the latest dimension where they'd been sent by a witch's magic, the Slayer gazed ahead at where Andrew had just stopped in front of a sturdy wooden door at the end of the rundown alley. Looking over his shoulder to beam at Faith glowering in turn at him, the young man happily turned back to the door. Reaching out with one hand, Andrew briskly rapped with his knuckles onto the panels surface the rhythm of 'shave and a haircut - two bits.'

An instant later, the peephole set at head level on the door slid open. A single baleful eye peered out through this opening. Andrew drew in a deep, thrilled breath over finally being able to say what he'd dreamed of for years, and then he conspiringly whispered, "Walt sent me."

The eye narrowed. After sending a suspicious glance at where Faith was resignedly looking up at the late 1940's Southern California night sky, a reluctant grunt of acceptance from behind the door acknowledged this password to be correct. With the scraping sound of bolts being drawn back, the door then swung inwards.

An animated gorilla revealed by this now stood in the open doorway, his enormous bulk completing filling it up both horizontally and vertically. Before stepping out of the way further back into the building, the ape working as a doorman waved a massive paw to invite inside the newest guests of the Ink and Paint Club.

A huge smile instantly appearing on his delighted face, Andrew of course bustled forward right away into the building. Faith unenthusiastically followed after, but while passing by the gorilla, she received the usual 'behave or else' glare this woman had to endure her whole life. Faith promptly responded with an even colder expression of 'ya and what fuckin' army, pal?'

She also put a little Slayer spin on it, just for shits and giggles. Which resulted in Faith having to inwardly fight down a quick upwelling of malicious glee at seeing this bouncer momentarily turn pale under his abundant facial hair. The cartoon primate had just clearly realized here in front of him was a far more intimidating predator than anything the African jungles could ever produce. Hastily edging away, the gorilla thankfully closed the front door and returned to his post, sitting back down in the oversized chair by the inner wall. All while sending a very worried stare at where that unnerving human female smirking to herself was striding through the building foyer.

In a much better mood than before, Faith swaggered towards the nightclub cloakroom, where Andrew had already handed over his hat and overcoat to the waiting attendant. Stopping by her companion, Faith shrugged off her golden silk wrap, revealing a skin-tight, low-cut evening gown of deepest midnight. This dress stunningly complimented her dark mane and the woman's alabaster cleavage. Casually dropping the wrap onto the cloakroom counter, Faith only lifted a quizzical eyebrow when the attendant advanced along the countertop to put away this strip of expensive cloth.

Carefully closing his extra-long beak upon the golden fabric, the Central American toucan then flapped his wings to soar upwards with his burden. Hovering in mid-air, this colorful bird neatly deposited the wrap besides Andrew's fedora resting on a shelf jutting from the room wall. Again using his beak to snatch a small disk dangling from the front edge of the shelf, the toucan swooped back down, landing easily onto his clawed feet upon the cloakroom counter. Andrew took the offered disk with a number engraved on it corresponding to the shelf number. He placed the identifying disk into his tuxedo jacket pocket for later reclaiming their property when they left the nightclub.

Both New Council members walked side-by-side down the short corridor to enter the main nightclub area proper. Faith and Andrew paused together just beyond the entrance, looking around in their shared curiosity.

As expected, the large circular room with a curtained stage on the left perfectly resembled what had been shown in the film _Who Framed Roger Rabbit._ Numerous dining tables filled with tonight's patrons eating and drinking at these were placed around the room, and at the far back, a good-sized bar had an animated octopus busily preparing a half-dozen drinks at the same time with all eight of his tentacles.

Faith sensed Andrew's intentions the very second he moved, and her arm shot out to grab his elbow, holding him there in the middle of his first step. The startled man turned his head to see his beautiful game partner giving him a sour look, along with her irritably hissing, "Hell, no, we ain't gonna be right in front."

Ignoring Andrew's outraged expression, Faith instead nodded across the room at an empty booth built into the curving wall. "That'll do okay for us, and don't fuckin' argue. This movie might be one of yer favorites, but we're not here ta get involved in things. You can film that private eye, Eddie Valiant, just fine from over there."

"But-" Andrew began to whine his protest, only to immediately shut up when Faith twitched up her lips to bare her teeth at him in a pitiless snarl. The Slayer next swept off towards her chosen table, not even bothering to look back to see if Andrew was following. Which he indeed was, despite doing so in a very sullen manner and continuously grumbling under his breath during this.

Andrew's immense annoyance over being ordered around like now in the middle of one of his film favorites lasted throughout him huffily taking his seat opposite Faith in their booth. However, his irritation abruptly lightened when their cheerful penguin waiter showed up a few moments later. As was only natural, since nobody can remain surly while in the diverting company of those amusing flightless birds in their dapper black and white feathers. On the other hand, Faith was also there, ready and willing to stick it again to her exasperating companion.

With a somewhat disturbing smirk on her lips, Faith graciously told the penguin taking their orders, "Whiskey on the rocks for me, an' a Shirley Temple for him there." The woman's smile now turned pure evil when she added, "Oh, what the hell. He's been a good li'l boy all night, so he deserves a reward. Put double the usual cherries in his glass!"

The penguin bobbed its head in acceptance of this and then scooted away from the booth. The Antarctican bird left behind a very contended Faith savoring her petty revenge and a livid Andrew about to explode in sheer fury at being ordered a children's drink composed of ginger ale with a splash of grenadine, along with a garnish of maraschino cherries.

Just before Andrew would've erupted at Faith, no matter what the cost to him from this, the Slayer lifted a warning finger. She used this to urgently point at the nightclub entrance. Following where his game partner was indicating, Andrew abruptly cooled down. He fumbled out Willow's video camera from his pants pocket. Discreetly holding the recorder hidden from anybody who might be watching, the absorbed geek started filming Eddie Valiant's entrance into the Ink and Paint Club.

An intent Andrew continued his labor of love throughout all of what that Hollywood private eye next did: taking a seat at an empty table in front of the stage, holding a conversation with Betty Boop and also talking to Marvin Acme, to then watch the insane piano duel between Daffy Duck and Donald Duck. Not even the delivery of their drinks made Andrew pause in his task. The filled glass holding the Shirley Temple indeed well-stocked with cherries was instead ignored by him.

On the other hand, Faith was enjoying her booze. She sipped at this damned good whiskey, during thoughtfully eyeing the chunky detective across the room from the pair at their own table. The fact was, in the 1988 film with its farfetched premise of cartoon people interacting with real folks, it was the human over there who was her most favorite character from the movie. She flat-out had to respect a stubborn guy who tried to do the right thing while working at his everyday job, even if he had really good cause to dislike toons. Yep, Valiant was okay in her book.

At the halfway point of draining her drink, Faith then stopped to cringe at the thunderous explosion coming from the stage, which was the raucous climax of a musical feud between two animated avians. As the stage curtains closed, Faith flexed her jaw muscles to alleviate the ringing in her ears. There were definite times when the Slayer's heightened hearing was unfortunately just something to make her frantically grab for the nearest earplugs. Well, at least it was over and done with now, before Faith became even more annoyed and in the mood for a little roast duck.

*Hmmm… Might as well as stay here afterwards when it's all finished, what Red tol' us ta do. Andy and me, we can spare some time for a good feed. This place will do fine, so when Mr. Director there quits filmin', I'll ask for a coupla menus. Okay, what comes next in the movie?*

From above, the house lights dimmed, and the room which had previously been pervaded by the nightclub crowd's amused chattering among themselves over what they'd just watched, now suddenly hushed. At the same time, Faith's expression became quite disgruntled, with her mentally grumping, *Oh. Right. _Her._*

The stage curtains stirred, and from where they were parting, two massive fleshy protrusions clad in red sequins advanced towards the audience. There was an actual few seconds' delay until the rest of Jessica Rabbit's body caught up with and followed along after. Sashaying forward, this slinking, scarlett-tressed cartoon woman gave the awed spectators a truly smoldering look of raw sexuality.

In her darkened booth seat concealing what she was doing, Faith sneered back, and she tossed off with one gulp the rest of her whiskey. Placing the now-empty glass onto the tabletop, this superhuman female caught sight from out of the corner of her eye the glazed look now upon Andrew's face while he single-mindedly continued to operate his camera filming everything. Peering through the dim light, Faith's superlative night vision also saw virtually every other male there - either animated or flesh-and-blood - had the same expression of pure lust while those morons stared at the most magnificent breasts in Hollywood.

At that point, the grouchy Slayer remembered and fully agreed with the acerbic remark uttered by the alien villainess Serleena during the sequel to the original _Men In Black_ movie: "Silly little planet. Anyone could take over the place with the right set of mammary glands."

Inelegantly lounging in the booth, a dimensional visitor dourly resigned herself to spending the next couple of minutes tolerating a performance by someone whose tits were bigger than her talent. Faith had never liked that bunny-humper right from the start, whose main claim to fame was Jessica Rabbit's naughty comment that she wasn't bad, she was just drawn that way. Yeah, sure, and Olive Oyl was in her Toontown life the equivalent of Mother Theresa.

Hey, it wasn't any kind of hypocrisy, what she was thinking. Faith damned well knew she was hot, and she'd traded in on this plenty of times. But the major difference between her and that blimp-chested bimbo on stage was that Faith could back it up when the mean and nasty shit got started. The skank there…what the hell did _she_ ever do, the rest of the picture? Stayed around looking decorative, vamped every guy in sight to make Faith's fingers itch for a stake, did nothing but scream and whimper when in danger, and basically played useless arm-candy throughout-

*_WHAT THE FUCK?!_*

Snapping bolt upright in her seat, Faith stared in total disbelief at the crooning sexpot on stage. Did she _really _see that?

Keeping her gaze firmly fixed upon a certain part of a toon's body, Faith waited through the next stanza of 'Why Don't You Do Right?' Her patience was rewarded by another sway of Jessica's lush hips clad in a dress slit way, way up which revealed again for an infinitesimal moment what the Slayer's acute eyes had accidentally noticed the first time. Quickly glancing around, Faith checked the audience's sightlines. She soon started to experience what was nothing less than genuine admiration for that lady in red, far different from her previous feelings.

It must've taken hours and hours of practice, plus the ability to remember exactly when, where, and how to do it. But the end result was that nobody else any closer in the nightclub could possibly detect what Jessica had just done. Neither could normal people in the booths at the back of the room, not at this distance for anyone who didn't have the ultra-keen vision capable of reading a dime's date from the other end of a football field. A reluctant grin tugging at her lips, Faith leaned back in her seat, and she mentally saluted Jessica Rabbit.

*Like hell yer not bad, sister. Dunno why yer doin' this - for the whole fun of it, just 'cause it's comfortable, gets ya off, whatever - but I owe ya one. Gonna take a while ta figger the right time to lay it on Fan-boy, but it'll be totally worth it. Betcha he'll start bawlin' real tears at what he missed by bein' in the wrong seat insteada mine. Otherwise, his stupid camera, it woulda caught on tape not just a time when the guy drawin' ya sneaked a practical joke past everyone, but the honest truth 'bout that ya don't ever wear panties.*


	24. Meryl Streep Turned It Down

Like, she was an eighties Valley girl, fer shure.

A young woman glanced around at the packed LA nightclub with its patrons actively dancing to the newest tunes of that decade, and Dawn Summers wryly smiled to herself. Years ago, the Key had come to terms with her bizarre-to-the-max origins due to being magically transformed from a ball of glowing-green cosmic energy into a human female who was also the Slayer's little sister. Still, every now and then, Dawn was forced to confront some of the more preposterous results of what the monks belonging to the Order of Dagon had caused by their meddling with people's lives and recollections.

Such as having a completely fabricated birthdate, when in reality she'd suddenly appeared at the Revello house in Sunnydale during the whole Dracula affair in 2000. At that point, everybody in the Scoobies falsely remembered Dawn Marie Summers as a totally ordinary fourteen year old kid. When the gang's memories were restored, a little subtraction suggested she'd presumably been born into the Summers family then living at Los Angeles sometime in 1986.

In the Silver Lake nightclub just a few months before that specific year, a gleeful Dawn started to nod her head in time to the beat of the music blasting out from the overhead speakers in sync with the spinning-ball lights dangling from the metal racks criss-crossing the ceiling. She took a moment to wonder what the others happily performing the latest moves in the crowded room they were sharing with her would think, if they somehow learned their entire 1980's decade would be considered nothing but cheap and tawdry by those living in the next century.

That wasn't fair, of course, but virtually every decade soon gains its own exclusive reputation in history based on various events taking place during those years. The twenties had the lost generation and the jazz age; the thirties the Great Depression; the forties the greatest generation fighting World War II; the fifties had the baby boom, atom bomb shelters, and conformity; the sixties had civil rights plus Vietnam and the hippies; the seventies had gas shortages, the Bicentennial, and Teeth in the White House; and the eighties had… Um, Reagan and MTV, with that being pretty much it.

Starting to dance in place, Dawn laughed out loud, her mirth effortlessly drowned out by the deafening music of 'California Girls.' There was a lot more going on here and now, and she should know! After all, in genuine curiosity about her so-called beginnings, a certain young lady had spent the occasional free period between Sunnydale apocalypses browsing through history books, videotapes, CD's, the Internet, and an immense stack of _People_ magazines. Through this, Dawn had learned a great deal about the time when she'd supposedly been born.

Why, just in the middle of 1986 alone, Hands Across America was held, Jonathan Pollard pled guilty to espionage, the Statue of Liberty reopened after an extensive refurbishment, and Prince Andrew married Sarah Ferguson!

Gracefully gyrating in the nightclub, Dawn had to snicker under her breath over the irony of something she'd missed in all the popular media of the late 80's. It wasn't until several months ago in the Scottish castle headquarters of the New Council that she and Rona had been discussing their favorite films. During their chat, Dawn mentioned her fondness for movies made in the last half of the decade when she'd theoretically been a little baby. Hearing this, Rona offhandedly asked if Dawn had ever seen a specific film released in 1989. Blinking at the rather strange title the Slayer had just mentioned, Dawn replied she'd certainly have remembered watching something called that, but, no.

A couple of hours later in Rona's apartment inside the castle, the final credits of the DVD playing on the Slayer's television kept on rolling over the accompaniment of Dawn's incessant giggles. Scooping up the last of the popcorn from the bowl they'd shared throughout the comedy movie, Dawn stuffed this into her mouth. Cheerfully mumbling to a smiling Rona on the other side of their couch, Dawn managed to say, "That was hilarious! I can see why you like it, and I'm gonna tell the rest of the guys about it, too!"

Afterwards, Dawn had gotten her own copy of the film, and she'd repeatedly watched it numerous times, both on her own and with Rona. It meant when she and this Slayer were sent into another dimension for their latest challenge of Willow's scavenger hunt, Dawn and Rona stared in shock at the familiar Los Angeles night skyline spread out before their building balcony. They'd also heard the dated music drifting from the hillside nightclub behind them. In their private location safe from prying eyes, the pair of young woman then read in the witch's little magical book exactly what they were supposed to do now.

Both of the New Council members had promptly shrieked with laughter, and then they went off to find the cast of the playful 1989 movie proudly bearing the ridiculous title of _Earth Girls Are Easy._

After a quick search together throughout the nightclub with no luck, Dawn and Rona agreed to split up and wait for their quarry, since those film characters would probably be along sooner or later. Meanwhile the Key was going to have fun! When the working day is done, mm-mm, mm-mm…

Willow was right. They'd all needed this, a chance to simply relax and enjoy themselves in circumstances far removed from their normal stressful lives. A game situation like the one they were in now was perfect. Having the chance to entertainingly visit various dimensions matching their assorted favorite books, films, television shows, and other media, plus the spice of competition against other teams in fulfilling their challenges, was something guaranteed to make the Scoobies forget their troubles and just take pleasure in life's silly little amusements.

Throwing herself completely into the mood, Dawn ardently danced all over the nightclub floor, either alone or with anyone nearby willing to be her partner for a few moments. Right up to the point when someone tapped Dawn's shoulder in the course of this young woman's particularly vigorous swiveling-hips move and shouted into her ear over the music, "You smell different!"

Jerked right out of her blissful reverie, Dawn spun around. She stared in utter shock at who'd told her that possibly rude statement. The Summers sister's astonishment promptly turned into genuine delight at finally finding the guy she'd been looking for, a real-life alien from outer space. Best of all, in his early-career role of Wiploc as one of three accidental castaways on this primitive planet when their spaceship had crashed into a Southern California swimming pool, the actor named Jim Carrey was then a hell of a cutie.

She quickly figured out that previously furry character having undergone serious depilation might now appear to be a good-looking guy, but he still retained otherworldly senses which might've drawn his attention to a certain Key. Dawn at once decided she didn't care. It wasn't like they'd be in each other's company all that long enough to make him suspicious about this female with the extraordinary odor. Besides, she needed to carry out what a surely-giggling Willow had instructed her to do, and that strange comment had given Dawn the ideal chance to react in the most perfect manner for here and now.

A big smile on her beautiful features, Dawn shouted back just as loudly at the surfer dude in the middle of the other dancers, "Oh, yeah? Well, let's see what _you _taste like!"

Stepping forward, the girl's arms shot out to grab the sides of Wiploc's head, and she yanked him down to have their faces meet in a sizzling kiss. The rest of the crowd who'd bothered to pay attention merely laughed and went back to their own merriment. A couple of seconds later, this resulted in everyone missing how the lady still locking lips with the guy had her eyes abruptly bulge out in sheer astonishment.

Five or ten minutes afterwards, Rona contentedly patted the lump in her pants pocket where Willow's video camera now rested. She'd gotten on tape the entire memorable dance-off between Zeebo the alien and an unaware human, who had just been soundly trounced by someone looked exactly like Damon Wayans. Now that her own challenge had been accomplished, this Slayer tried to find Dawn in the boogieing crowd. Edging through the happy throng, Rona kept on searching, eager to tell her friend they were at the right point in the movie. With any luck, Dawn would be able to meet the other alien and finish- Oh.

Walking up to a dazed young woman possessing a very goofy grin on her face and standing stock-still among the dancers, an amused Rona chortled towards Dawn, "So, was it everything you hoped for?"

Blinking as she returned to Planet Earth, Dawn retorted in her own supremely gleeful tone, "Even better! It was one thing seeing on the screen a funny special effect, but that didn't compare to experiencing in person what Wiploc can do with his twelve-inch tongue! My tonsils are still tingling!"


	25. Xander and Kennedy, Where Are You!

"Me, I could never figure out why they always missed the zipper on the back," marveled Kennedy while she helped Xander strip an unconscious stranger. That mentioned little metal fastener was easy enough to see, even in the flickering light of a pair of old-fashioned oil lanterns hanging on the far cellar wall.

Squatting down to yank off the lower half of a swamp monster costume, a preoccupied Xander just shrugged in his crouching position without saying anything. He looked up at Kennedy easily holding upright her insensible captive by her hands under his armpits. The bare feet of this recently-clobbered older man now wearing only a swimsuit dangled limply a few inches above a pile of greenish-glowing clothing lying on the basement floor. This strange illumination was the result of phosphorescence dabbed all over this attire's sewn-on scales.

Cautiously straightening up, the top of Xander's head almost brushed the ceiling's wooden beams. There wasn't all that much clearance in their hiding place under the decaying Southern mansion by a Louisiana marsh. Regardless, this remote place was the scene of the latest case taken on by the teenage adventurers known as Mystery, Inc.

Opening his mouth to reply to Kennedy, Xander hastily closed it again when faint creaking noises suddenly came from overhead. Simultaneously tilting back their heads, both New Council members stared up at faint trickles of dust advancing across the ceiling. These were tracing the footsteps where four humans and one canine were cautiously searching tonight for the unearthly creature known as Alligator Al. The sound of muffled voices came drifting downwards for a few moments. These wary tones soon stopped when the people in the house's main hallway split up to go off on their own into the spooky, totally dark, other rooms of the crumbling mansion which had been whispered about for years as being haunted by a half-man, half-reptile.

A very cynical expression now upon his scarred features, Xander lifted an eyebrow at where Kennedy was nodding back in her own weary resignation. She sighed to her companion concerning what she'd just listened to with her Slayer hearing, "Yeah, Fred suggested they'd cover more ground in separate groups."

Face-palming himself, Xander growled in real exasperation, "Even when I was six years old, _that_ idea always sounded really dumb to me! You don't suppose it's how this specific horror movie cliché got started in the first place? Just about every director and writer of slasher flicks in the last couple decades had to have watched an episode of 'Scooby-Doo, Where Are You!' and it must've stuck in their tiny little minds!"

Smirking at her irritated game partner, Kennedy reminded him, "Hey, it's not like any single one of those cartoons were different from all the others, except for the locations and the dumb villains, Xander. It'll still make it easier for us, you know."

A very evil grin abruptly came into existence on Xander's countenance. Clearly, his annoyed mood had brightened considerably after hearing this. He sniggered, "Oh, yeah, you can say that again! Let's get started."

Sending in return an identical wicked smile at her partner in crime for tonight, Kennedy stepped over to the side while still holding onto her out-cold captive, who hadn't stirred the slightest throughout their recent discussion. Glancing around, the Slayer noted a likely-looking spot along the basement right wall, where a heap of rotting junk included some scraps of rope and other rags. Heading there, a few minutes' work found their prisoner securely hog-tied, blindfolded, and gagged. This unfortunate man was then dragged over by the side of the cellar stairs and left there, with a dusty, tattered tablecloth casually tossed over him. Feeling a proud sense of satisfaction at the completion of her assigned task, Kennedy turned around to look at the center of the basement.

There, balefully peering through the eye-holes of a full-head alligator mask, a glowing figure growled and clawed at the air with taloned hands. It then began menacingly lurching towards the young woman. The only reaction done by Kennedy in response to this was to swiftly bring out her video camera from her pocket. Starting to film everything, the Slayer enthusiastically said, "Do that again, Xander! Willow and the rest are going to love every bit of it!"

Never one to let down his girls, Alligator Al posed, flexed, and shook his adorable cold-blooded booty for them, whipping back and forth at will his attached tail with its bony plates.

Kennedy kept on filming despite her continuous giggles, until Xander reluctantly ended the fun by coming to a standstill. A stifled chuckle drifted out from between the mask's open jaws with their big, white, pointed teeth. This was followed by, "Okay, Ken, time for the main course! Go up and check it out. I'll be right behind."

Putting away her camera and taking a quick moment to wipe away a tear of delight, Kenned grinned at the radiant man in his completely ridiculous costume. Nodding in acceptance, the Slayer walked past the unmoving lump under the tablecloth which was their prisoner. Arriving at the cellar stairs, she went up these. Pausing to push up and back the trapdoor at the top, Kennedy ascended the last few steps. She found herself in a small cloakroom which had hidden this secret passage down to the basement. Leaving the trapdoor open, the woman carefully listened with her superhuman hearing. Good, everyone else out there were in their rooms on the first floor, in all cases still carrying out their futile searches. To be sure, Kennedy pulled the cloakroom door open a crack, and she peeked out through this gap.

The main hallway, reaching from the front entrance with the cloakroom by this to the central staircase at the far end, was completely deserted. Some of the doors to the rooms lining the sides of the hallway were open, showing where Fred, Shaggy, Daphne, Scooby-Doo, and Velma had entered those areas. Continuing to keep a close watch there, Kennedy heard Xander laboriously make his way up the cellar stairs, trying not to trip over his tail during this. At last succeeding, this man now waiting behind her whispered into his friend's ear, "Any problems?"

"Nope," snickered Kennedy, squeezing to the side while tugging the door fully ajar after herself. She reached out to pat her companion's scaly back, encouragingly telling the luminous-green figure passing by her side while exiting the cloakroom, "Have fun, Xander."

"Damn straight!" exultantly came from a phosphorescent snout. This reptile's muzzle turned towards Kennedy cramming her knuckles into her mouth to keep from shrieking with laughter when Xander archly asked, "Wanna bet I meet Scooby and Shaggy first?"

Kennedy just snorted. "Are you kidding me? Everything that's going to happen next will be more stylized than a Japanese Noh play! There's no other way we could do this!"

The alligator head eagerly nodded, and Xander then shuffled forward to stand in the center of the main hallway. Pausing to hold out his arms in their taloned gloves at chest level in proper monster-threatening fashion, he started again, shambling down the passage towards one very specific room. Soon enough, a costumed New Council member went through an open doorway, and he vanished into the darkness there.

During this, Kennedy shut the door again save for a mere crack once more. The Slayer also took out her video camera and held it up to her face through the gap where it could film the resulting events. A few seconds later, what she'd been expected then rang throughout the entire mansion, causing cobwebs everywhere to vibrate.

"YAAAAHHHHH!"

The panicked scream, combining a human screech of pure fear and a cowardly canine's terrified howl, was followed by a beatnik dude and a Great Dane frantically sprinting out of their room into the main hallway, with Alligator Al in close pursuit. This running reptile was also swiping with his claws at the exposed necks of his chosen prey for tonight.

Speedily attracted by this, Fred, Daphne, and Velma appeared in the doorways of their own rooms, and they stared in shock at finding out there really was a swamp monster…and it was coming at full throttle in their direction! With loud yells of alarm, the only three people in their little group who weren't obsessed with Scooby Snacks hastily backpedaled, only to be immediately followed into their rooms by Shaggy, Scooby-Doo, and Alligator Al seemingly in the famished mood to devour right this second every trespasser in his lair. _Especially_ the dog.

For the next several minutes, a maniac chase scene punctuated with numerous sight gags took place in the lower floor of the mansion. Across the main hallway, the various cartoon characters recklessly ran in and out of the rooms, with all of them at one time or the other at the front or rear of the pursuit of Alligator Al. Whose own constant, happy snarls indicated this man-beast was having a truly wonderful time.

Kennedy, in between her own endless chortles while filming it all, couldn't help envying Xander. Unfortunately, there'd been no chance whatsoever of the costume being able to fit the Slayer. There _was_ one advantage for not actually joining in tonight's fun and games, though: she got to watch Velma Dinkley. Or to be more specific, this girl's sublime ass.

Oh, that redhead's rack was also fine and dandy, developing an impressive wobbling action throughout all of Velma's flat-out run. Kennedy, however, had always been an admirer of a good, solid, feminine butt, and she had the firm conviction you could bounce quarters off what was hidden beneath the swishing brown skirt worn by a woman with glasses. Not that Willow didn't have her personal, delectable, creamy-white bottom which she was always happy to share with her lover. Nevertheless, ever since childhood when she'd known her own sex, rather than the opposite one, would be her permanent choice, Kennedy treasured the naughty thoughts of what she'd love to do to the lower portion of someone whose favorite catchphrase was-

"_Jinkies!_"

You just had to respect a young lady with steel-hard gluteus muscles. How else could Velma hold up on her shoulders an entire human pyramid consisting of Fred, Daphne, Shaggy, Scooby-Doo, and Alligator Al as she presently staggered down the hallway towards the mansion's central staircase? Of course, this ended in that sweater-wearing female's alarmed exclamation at the exact moment when she tripped over the rug lying in front of the stairs.

Scooby-Doo had his own, more-pressing problems then. Just before this animal started falling forward with the others being carried by that clumsy human lower down, the Great Dane had only then realized he and his master were borne along together at the apex of the pyramid while cradled in a pair of glowing-green arms connected to a pet-eating monster.

The tremendous crash made by a couple of plummeting people onto the upper landing of the staircase shook the whole house. Yet another chase ensued, with a now-panting reptile gamely completing a circuit around the second floor corridor after Shaggy and Scooby-Doo. Who both threw their close friendship entirely to the winds at demonstrating with each other throughout this the maxim, 'It's not who's fastest, it's who's slowest that gets munched upon.'

Kennedy made sure to get on film the bannister slide from the upper floor by all three descending participants which mowed down the other trio, before reluctantly tearing herself away.

Using every bit of her Slayer speed, she crammed the video camera into her pocket, dropped through the trapdoor, and leapt across the basement to where the lanterns were hanging on the far wall. Two quick puffs of breath extinguished the lantern flames and turned the cellar into pitch dark. Kennedy rushed back to the foot of the stairs to the upper house, urged along by the thunderous noise of a local stampede approaching the cloakroom. That room's half-open door allowed a mere fraction of illumination to shine down from above, but it was all the woman's superhuman eyesight needed at the moment.

Grabbing the dusty tablecloth, Kennedy ripped it off from the guy on the cellar floor who for his own weird reasons had been dressing up as Alligator Al, until two new Council members dropped in unannounced tonight. The Slayer continued to hold the dangling tablecloth in her left hand, using the other to effortlessly snap their captive's bonds and yank away the blindfold and gag from this man now stirring into consciousness from his unexpected rough treatment. Kennedy wasn't too worried about that, given how a tumbling ball of flesh and bone consisting of about a half-dozen people and one dog, all helplessly intermixed with each other and yelling at the tops of their lungs, now bounced down the cellar stairs and landed on the basement floor with a bruising '_Thud!_' sound effect.

With perfect timing, Kennedy wove through the near-total gloom which blinded everyone but her among the scattered bodies lying on the ground where they'd come to a dazed rest. Stooping over her chosen victim, Kennedy swiftly wrapped and tied the tablecloth she'd been holding around a Great Dane's head. Scooby-Doo immediately yelped at this unexpected contact, only to next start uncontrollably sneezing due to the dust from the tablecloth getting up his sensitive nose. Knowing the sole cartoon character in the basement able to detect a stranger's presence now wouldn't be able to see, hear or smell her, Kennedy stepped towards a glowing form lying on his stomach and softly groaning under his breath at having the wind knocked out of him.

Crouching down, Kennedy patted Xander's shoulder in their pre-arranged signal, and he went totally still, smirking despite his recent bruises. This man now felt his mask being tugged off, and he inwardly snickered at the sudden whimper of sheer fright coming from other there when Kennedy tossed her trophy onto Fred's chest. This leader of Mystery, Inc. on his back hastily batted away what seemed to be a decapitated head, making a glowing object fly across the room and land next to Shaggy, who didn't handle this very well, either.

The mask covered with phosphoresce continued to bounce back and forth among the younger people in the room, all of them preferring someone besides them to be the one dealing with it. During this little game of pass-the-monster-head and various loud expressions of disgust, the even noisier sounds of a dog miserably sneezing at full blast echoed throughout the basement.

Glancing over to see through the gloom the big canine was futilely pawing at the ragged cloth still covering his head, Kennedy went back to work. She rapidly undressed Xander out of his costume (grinning to herself that this was the first and silliest time in her life to take off a guy's clothes all on her own). As for the other New Council member, he stayed limp throughout this, letting Kennedy do all the work since only she could see what needed to be done. Sure enough, once the costume was completely removed, Xander felt himself being lifted with ease off the floor and carried away, to then be gently laid down upon the bottom treads of the cellar stairs.

Again following their plan worked out earlier, Xander crawled up the stairs on his hands and knees. Which was all the exhausted man could do, really. He concentrated on this, knowing Kennedy would be finishing up behind him.

Indeed, the Slayer had just grabbed hold of their wakeful prisoner, who instantly howled in bewilderment at finding himself being manhandled in absolute darkness. Continuing to yell threats and demands at whoever was holding him in an unbreakable grip, this older man eventually attracted the startled attention of the others in the cellar by his very familiar voice.

Dropping what he'd finally realized to be a mask for concealing someone's identity, Fred instantly declared in his carrying tone, "That's Professor Throckmorton! He's got to be the one who's been scaring people away from here! Get him, guys, before he escapes!"

Even in the basement murkiness, the jerking motion of a phosphorescent costume seemingly trying to get up and away were clearly discernable. Actually, it was all due to Kennedy effortlessly stuffing her struggling captive into the glowing clothes. Looking over this still-shouting man's shoulder, the Slayer decided she'd done as much as was necessary, and she yanked hard on the right arm of what's-his-name, aiming him in the proper direction before suddenly letting go. Taken again by surprise, the man three-quarters into his handmade scaled costume staggered forward a few steps, only to fall over something.

Finally getting off what'd been on his head, Scooby-Doo scrambled around on all four paws, and he eagerly sank his sharp teeth deep into the leg of that nasty human who'd dared treat him so badly! A scream of real pain carrying throughout the basement was at once followed by double whoops of triumph when Fred and Shaggy piled onto their latest villain and started thoroughly pummeling him.

Daphne and Velma stood uncertainly in the cellar darkness, not daring to move until they were sure things were genuinely over and done with. Neither of them were aware of the other woman silently ghosting up behind a certain redhead. At least, not until a piercing feminine shriek stabbed into everyone's ears, causing the four thrashing figures on the basement floor to freeze together in shared shock. Even Professor Throckmorton momentarily forgot his multiple bruises, contusions, and animal bites at hearing Velma Dinkley angrily screech at her full volume: "WHO DID THAT?!"

Actually, Xander now tiredly staggering onto his feet in the main hallway knew very well who. It was his Slayer. What he was hesitant to ask about, seeing how evil the grin now on Kennedy's face when she slipped out of the cloakroom and slung his arm over her shoulder to help him up the central staircase where they'd hide in the upper floors, was exactly _what _his game partner had just done down there.

As for Kennedy herself, she gloried in the remembrance of the magnificent firmness she'd felt when her exploring fingers had gripped and squeezed a pair of fabulous buttocks. There was no way she'd ever have passed up the chance, not when it'd never happen again. Needless to say, Kennedy would still have to confess everything to her lover, and uncomplainingly submit to the discipline she owned to Mistress Willow for her recent transgression… Oooo, yes!

About a half hour later, two people carefully keeping themselves concealed behind one of the outlooking windows on the second floor of the mansion watched and listened to what was taking place below on the overgrown front lawn. Xander and Kennedy (who was again filming everything) had just heard a bandaged professor grumpily confess to Mystery, Inc. and the summoned cops that he'd been searching for a Civil War treasure rumored to be hidden somewhere in the house and its grounds. To keep everyone else away, Alligator Al had been created, and it'd worked for years, until…

Stopping to brood for a few moments about a very confusing night, Professor Throckmorton finally burst out in his utter annoyance to everyone in the vicinity, "And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids and your stupid dog!"

Without even looking, a side-by-side Kennedy and Xander lifted up their arms and they faultlessly high-fived each other.


	26. So What Else Is New?

"Are you quite _sure_ he's not a demon?"

That doubtful question had come from Rupert Giles while he was discreetly leaning over to whisper his inquiry into the ear of the young woman seated next to him. At the same time, the Englishman continued to warily eye the object of his study. Beyond in the far right corner of a large room, an enormous man with his head shaved completely bare was standing there. Dressed in some sort of blue uniform, that being benevolently watched over his kingdom, which at this moment included a former Watcher and his current Slayer sitting at the back of a New York City courtroom.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Vi then hissed back, "Yes! That's Bull Shannon, the bailiff. The _Night Court_ tv series always showed him to be pretty odd, but he's human." Pausing to think it over, Vi amended, "More or less."

His brow wrinkling in confusion, Giles demanded, "What the devil does that mean?"

Vi slouched down in her seat, shrugging as she answered. "The whole gang up there in front are a bunch of really offbeat people, just like the style of my favorite tv sitcom I watched in reruns. Bull is kind of slow on the uptake but he's a sweetheart with some unexpected surprises hidden under that mutant look. The rest of them-" (Vi nodded at the small group clustered around the judge's desk at the other side of the room) "-have their own quirks. Harry Stone, the judge, likes practical jokes, Mel Torme the singer, and everything from fifty years ago. Dan Fielding, the prosecutor in the expensive suit, is an arrogant womanizer. The public defender, Christine Sullivan, is a bit uptight and naïve. Last of them is Mac Robinson, the court clerk, who tries to be the voice of sanity, without much luck."

Hearing all this, Giles cast a frankly dubious gaze around at their dingy surroundings, which they'd entered a few minutes earlier, after having a meal in the nearby cafeteria. He and his game partner were at the moment seated in the room's rear half filled with about a dozen hard wooden benches. Around the pair from another dimension, these benches were presently occupied by a variety of New York denizens, ranging from the upper class to the homeless. All of these other people surely had their own reasons for being here well after midnight. A few yards ahead, a low railing divided their area from an open spot further on surrounded by several tables and the judge's desk set against the far wall.

The Director of the New Council (whose entire staff had just been shanghaied into also playing Willow's blasted scavenger hunt today) pensively observed that latter piece of furniture. Resting on the tabletop was their latest challenge, a small wooden hammer known as a gavel, which they were supposed to filch tonight. Apparently Vi was a devotee of the American television show they'd been transported into, and a certain witch had in turn decided her friend would truly enjoy a visit here. Which wouldn't have been so bad, mind you, except Willow Rosenberg had also decreed they needed to collect that specific souvenir to continue competing in their ridiculous party game.

This little bit of thievery was unfortunately going to be quite difficult to accomplish, seeing how the gavel had just now been picked up by the judge while he rapped it once on his desk to confirm his latest decision. A minor fine and time served had been given to the miscreant standing before the desk, who seemed rather pleased by this sentence. Scurrying off to pay what he owed, that accused party was amiably watched by the fresh-faced senior law court official in his black robes (who, in Giles' judgment, looked remarkably young for his job).

Harry Stone now called out with great good cheer to the court clerk at his own table next to the judge, "Okay, Mac, who's our next wonderful contestant?"

In response, this burly black man wearing a sweater vest expectantly held up a folder. Clearly amused, Mac Robinson grinned, "I think you'll like this one, Judge. We've got, as written here, 'unidentified male extra in a sword-and-sandal movie.' From what the file says, he got picked up by the cops earlier tonight a few blocks from here, wandering around the streets. He didn't resist arrest, but the guy's still charged with refusing to cooperate with the authorities. That's because he didn't say a single word anyone could understand during his stay in the lockup."

Looking intrigued, Harry turned his head to affably order, "Okay, Bull, wheel him in."

Nodding back, with reflections from the overhead lights flashing off his bald pate, the addressed bailiff turned to make a 'come-on' motion with one hand. This gesture was directed at the open doorway in the right side of the courtroom's far wall. It appeared the accused parties for tonight's session were waiting in another room beyond for their cases to be called. This soon resulted in the entrance of two new persons into the courtroom.

The first to come into sight was another bailiff, a stocky, tough-looking black woman now possessing a very deadpan face. Perhaps due to the prisoner she was escorting, who just happened to be a Roman legionary dressed in his archaic uniform perhaps two millennia out of date.

Seemingly paying no attention to the other occupants of the courtroom, who were one and all staring in disbelief at him, a squat fireplug of a man with tanned, leathery features beneath a grizzled, close-cropped hairstyle marched into the room. Keeping a metal helmet with a horsehair crest nestled in the crook of a strongly-muscled arm by his armored upper garment, this mid-forties man stepped forward in a cloth tunic over short pants, and yes, sandals. He was guided by the female bailiff into standing in front of the judge's desk. Where Harry waited with sparkling eyes, truly eager to hear the start of _this_ story.

For once sharing identical expressions of total resignation, Dan Fielding and Christine Sullivan took their places at the sides of their newest legal case. Both wearily waited for what was sure to come, and it indeed didn't take too long. Doing an extremely awful Tony Curtis impression, Harry now declared, "I am Spartacus!"

Among the loud groans of the audience in the back of the courtroom over that badly-delivered line from a classic Kubrick film, Giles hastily sat up on his spectator's bench. He gazed with sheer shock at the unmoving Roman soldier, who hadn't reacted at all to anything. Unlike a specific Briton now disbelievingly muttering under his breath, "Dear Lord!"

This of course caused a worried Vi to ask in a matching low, alarmed tone, "What's wrong, Giles?"

Giles yanked a handkerchief from his tweed suit pocket and took off his eyeglasses to begin energetically polishing these. Near-sightedly peering towards the Roman soldier, he answered Vi, "That man there, he's practically glowing from temporal magic! I recognize the spell, and he can't possibly be anything but a real time-traveler from the distant past!"

The Slayer's jaw dropped in astonishment, but then she frowned at Giles replacing his glasses after unexpectedly identifying something from their supernatural world. Vi cautiously said, "Uh, boss, _Night Court,_ the tv show we're in, it had plenty of weird people appearing here in the courtroom, but I don't remember anyone from Roman times. There could be an easier explanation, like he's just some sort of nut. _That_ happened often enough on the show."

Giles firmly shook his head. He told his doubtful companion, "Even if the magic wasn't there - which it definitely is - that man's costume is picture perfect down to the very last detail. Every bit of the cloth, leather, and metalwork he's wearing is newly handmade, far beyond what any historical re-enactor today is capable of making or acquiring, even from a museum!"

"Okay," grudgingly said Vi, "So, he's here because of magic. How come you know that?"

The New Council Director looked sad for a few seconds. He eventually answered the young woman, "In my younger days, I dabbled in magic with some friends. It ended badly, making me cease and desist from using it again except when absolutely necessary. However, I'm still familiar with many spells, enough to help that man there return to his proper time. It has to be done right away, however. At least we're fortunate in what we just heard, that the mystical portal which this soldier came through has to be nearby."

A goggling Vi had to spend a moment to absorb this, right before protesting, "We just came here to sneak off with a gavel! How do we stage a jailbreak in the next two minutes?"

Up at the judge's bench, things were proceeding in their own proper fashion. Christine was finishing her report with a doleful, "-and my assigned client wouldn't even speak to me when I visited him in the cells. Without any kind of cooperation, I can't defend him to the best of my ability. I move for a psychiatric evaluation to see if he's fit to plead."

Harry's intent gaze switched to a bored Dan idly examining his fingernails while waiting for his turn to speak. "Mr. Prosecutor?"

Shrugging with supreme disdain, this tall lawyer informed the court, "Bellevue was happy enough to confirm they have on hand any number of Napoleons, not to mention Abraham Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, and lots of other crazies who think they're from out of the history books. There's no record of Julius Caesar or Nero escaping tonight from their custody, though. If it'll get him out of here, I'm fine with the evaluation."

Nodding in agreement, Harry still suggested, "Before then, let's see if we can work things out on our own." Harry then looked directly at the man in the Roman uniform phlegmatically staring back at him, and the judge appealed, "Sir, would you like to say something? It'd be a really good idea to clear this all up for us here and now."

Without changing his somber expression the slightest, the prisoner lifted up his right hand in a distinct salute, and barked, "Ave, praetor urbanus! Marcus Livius Quintillus, optio centuriae, Legio Octava Augusta!"

There was a brief silence throughout the courtroom after this unintelligible statement. It was at last broken by Dan acidly commenting, "Well, that was helpful."

Harry sent towards his sarcastic friend and co-worker a genuinely annoyed glance. In the middle of this, the judge blinked in sudden surprise at seeing one of the spectators in the rear area abruptly get to his feet from his bench and wave for attention. Next came an earnest call for attention in a definite posh English accent, "Excuse me, your honor! May I approach?"

While every one else there (save for an unruffled legionary) stared in their own astonishment at this interruption, Harry guardedly replied, "Maybe. Who are you, please, and why should I let you do that?"

"Ah, quite," agreed the dignified man in the tweed suit. He went on, "I'm Professor Rupert Giles from the British Museum in London, on vacation here. This is my American niece, Violet Day, who's been showing me around this city."

After this last statement, the professor gestured at the young woman still in her seat by him, presently gawking up in sheer disbelief at her self-styled relative. Ignoring this reaction, the Englishman instead next pointed at the prisoner still between Dan and Christine, while declaring, "I'm an authority on ancient languages. Only a minute ago, that person identified himself as the second-in-command of one hundred troops belonging to the Eighth Augustan Legion, all in perfectly fluent Latin."

Absently tapping his chin with the gavel he'd just picked up, Harry then came to a sudden decision, as seen by him impulsively waving this small hammer in a summoning gesture. This was accompanied by the judge consenting, "Okay, come on up, and let's see if you can talk to him."

Brightening at this permission, the professor bustled forward, trailed along after by his young niece, who still appeared rather stunned by the recent events. A minute later, Miss Day was at one side of the small group clustered in front of the judge, as the museum scholar impeccably carried on an incomprehensible conversation with the Roman soldier. This other mature man had at first looked very startled, and then quite relieved at being able to speak with someone he could finally understand. A flood of words had come from the soldier, with Giles clearly following every sentence.

However, Harry's patience finally ran out after while of listening to nothing but meaningless jabber. Firmly clearing his throat to break into the middle of the gabfest, the judge informed this visiting professor and everyone else turning to look at him, "Sir, we don't have all night. Have you learned anything useful?"

"Yes, indeed," happily replied Professor Giles. "It'll make a fine tale for my colleagues- Ahem. Well, this is Mark Harrison, a former Latin teacher at several exclusive private schools here. He's now retired and does theatrical acting as a hobby. Mr. Harrison recently learned of a new play looking for an actor to undertake the role of a Roman soldier around the time of Christ being magically sent by an evil sorcerer into the far future, which is the present day for us. The rest of the play deals with how Optio Quintillus tries to adjust to his new life in modern times. Before trying out for the play, this man decided to prepare for the role in the most realistic manner possible. Resolving to never break character, he dressed up as you see him now, the perfect legionnaire, and then went out in public to experience what would next happen."

Vi regarded her boss with real admiration. That had to be the best instance she'd ever heard of in making up a cover story on the spot, while combining both absolute truth and complete baloney. Glancing around, the Slayer had to stifle a grin at also seeing the accepting faces of the _Night Court_ cast. To be fair, those guys on that television comedy had been told far stranger stories which had actually turned out to be true. Now, if they'd just keep buying the whole thing…

"Is Mr. Harrison ready now for the curtain to fall on his performance?" hinted Harry, who was sternly staring at the expressionless prisoner. "Because I don't think he really wants to suffer for his art. Regardless of the reasons for it, he wasted the authorities' time. That _is_ a crime, however minor. So, here's the deal, Mr. Harrison. Continue with this playacting, and you head back to jail. Or you can admit it's over, accept a fine, plus promise not to do it again, and you can go. Yes or no?"

Out of the corner of his mouth, Professor Giles uttered a short, pungent phrase in Latin.

The optio reluctantly nodded once, and then he rapped his clenched fist against his breastplate, both deeds a clear indication of this man's acquiescence. Rising his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation over ham actors and their grand gestures, Harry nevertheless hit the desktop with his gavel, dismissing the case with his usual words, "Fifty bucks and time served! Next one, Mac!"

Among the bustle of the court staff, Giles led his new companion, plus Vi trailing along after, over to where the black woman in the bailiff's uniform was sardonically eyeing them all advancing her way. The New Council Director politely requested, "Ma'am, Mr. Harrison would like his vitis back. It's part of his borrowed costume, and has to be returned with it."

Roz Russell asked suspiciously, "His what?"

"Er," Giles groped for the proper description. "A short wooden stick like a cane or baton."

The bailiff's frowning face smoothed out in recognition. She nodded, "The club, gotcha." At that point, this woman sent a cold glance at the supposed soldier among the trio still staying in character by acting if he had no idea what was going on, to then grouchily inform them all, "You _do_ know Laurence Olivier with you, he's damn lucky? If he'd pulled that out when the cops collared him, Mr. Thespian could've been charged with possible assault with a deadly weapon against an officer in the course of his duties."

"It isn't exactly a weapon," Professor Giles stiffly informed the scornful court official. "The vitis symbolizes a centurion's authority, in addition to being used in disciplinary proceedings. A British Army officer's swagger stick is a direct descendent of this distinction of rank."

Roz shrugged in her evident disinterest, "Yeah, whatever. Go to the payment section three floors down with your money ready. Pay the fine there, and then take the receipt for this with the record of the dismissed case to the evidence locker in the basement. After checking to see if everything's okay, the people there will return his property. Now if you don't mind, I need to get back to my job." With those last dismissive words, the bailiff turned and went off with a firm stride towards the prisoner waiting area.

A somewhat nonplussed Giles hesitated a moment, before he started towards the courtroom rear doors, waving for Vi and the Roman soldier to accompany him. Both did so, with the latter time-traveling man remaining as composed as he'd been throughout everything else in the last few minutes. On the other hand, Vi was watching with a decidedly wary gaze their newest companion walking ahead of her. She waited until they were out of the courtroom and in the main corridor currently deserted save for their small group.

Calling out to Giles in front leading them to the elevator, Vi inquired, "Hey, boss, was what you said back there true? I mean, the evil sorcerer and everything-"

"Absolutely, Vi," returned Giles over his shoulder. He further added, "I also managed to convince Optio Quintillus during our private talk that I knew how to restore him to his proper home by my own magic. But we need everything he brought here in the first place, which is why we're collecting his vitis. After that, it should be easy enough to find the portal and return him to the past through this."

Vi gave an accepting shrug. If the Director of the New Council was convinced things would work out so straightforwardly, who was she to worry about anything? Still, there was something which continued to bother her. Thoughtfully eyeing the straight back of the man marching after her boss, the Slayer pointed out, "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth and all, but why isn't this guy from thousands of years ago freaking out? I don't think he woke up this morning feeling perfectly fine with taking a quick trip into the future!"

Stopping before the elevator at the end of the corridor, to then press the wall button to summon this, Giles turned to approvingly examine the matter-of-fact soldier standing easily in the passageway. Looking into his game partner's curious face, the Englishman explained, "Vi, for centuries, the Roman army was the best-trained and most disciplined military force on earth. It follows that this army had to have noncommissioned soldiers who were something special. Or to put it like this, officers are there to get killed, but it's the _sergeants_ who run things. Quintillus is a twenty-year veteran of one of the toughest fighting units in history. A little thing like being sent by magic into a totally strange place wasn't going to faze him all that much."

Regarding their relaxed companion with genuine respect, Vi nodded in approval at meeting another true warrior. Feeling a great deal better, the Slayer then wryly told Giles just as the elevator door opened, "Looks like we'll have time to get back here and steal the gavel, even if that seems pretty tame now. Although, at least we had a real _Night Court_ moment, seeing for ourselves it's a television show where _anything_ at all can happen there!"


	27. Nice Weather For Ducks

"You grew up in _this?_" incredulously asked Chao-Ahn.

"Hey, L.A. doesn't have downpours like right now every other week!" countered Buffy indignantly defending her California hometown.

From where she was huddled under a store awning and sharing an umbrella with her sister Slayer pressed up close for this shelter, Buffy went on, "Maybe one or two times a year, at most. This much rain coming down all at once is pretty rare," finished the blonde woman, nodding at tonight's cloudburst beyond, which had quickly emptied the streets and sidewalks along a business/shopping district of 1920's Hollywood.

Absently wiping away some drops of water blown into her face by a stray gust of wind, Chao-Ahn glanced around at the deserted area, where nobody was in sight but for her and Buffy. Clearing her throat, the Asian Slayer murmured into the ear of the other woman at her side, "How much longer do we wait? I haven't seen the movie in a while-"

"There he is!" interrupted a triumphant Buffy, shooting out a slim arm to enthusiastically point at a man across the road strolling down the opposite sidewalk. Both women now watched in utter fascination as this newcomer in his blue/grey woolen suit paused to fold up the umbrella he was carrying, and next look up into the pouring rain, a wide grin on his very familiar face.

Then, Don Lockwood started to dance and sing in sheer delight.

In their concealed position on the other side of the street, Buffy started to joyously hum in time with the graceful moves of the unaware man, "_I'm singin' in the rain-_"

Next to her game partner, Chao-Ahn joined in just as merrily while aiming the video camera she'd just pulled out of her jacket pocket to film it all, "_Just singin' in the rain-_"

Both Slayers ecstatically performed the entire song in harmony to the wonderful show taking place across the street in a single take. When it ended much too soon, with the silent movie star jauntily resuming his walk in the rain after performing one last act, Buffy sighed in total bliss over what she'd just seen. At last collecting herself, the former Sunnydale resident briskly tossed over her shoulder to Chao-Ahn putting away her camera, "C'mon, let's go!"

Holding high her umbrella, Buffy scampered across the wet street, followed right after by Chao-Ahn. They timed it perfectly, waylaying a complete stranger who'd a few moments ago had been wholly taken aback at being presented with something he badly needed tonight. This soaked passerby was again surprised once more by two young women accosting him from out of nowhere. Particularly when one of these ladies immediately begged of him, "Say, mister, could you do me a little favor? Please trade your umbrella with mine! It's bigger than yours, see, and it'll do a lot better in keeping you dry. How about it, okay?"

His jaw dropping at such an odd request, this member of the public who'd become part of film immortality looked up uncertainly at the umbrella he'd just been given by Don Lockwood. This man's gaze then flicked to the other, much larger umbrella coaxingly offered by that blond girl. Well…it wasn't like he'd paid for his free umbrella in the first place, so, why not?

With an accepting shrug done by the stranger, the exchange was quickly made, and the two bearers of their respective new umbrellas separated, heading down the sidewalk in opposite directions. However the stranger might've been pleased by how well his latest weather protection was holding off the rain, this contented feeling was nothing compared to what Buffy and Chao-Ahn were experiencing right at this moment.

Heading off to find somewhere private where they could use Willow's book and travel onto the next challenge of the scavenger hunt, two devoted fans of MGM musicals gripped firmly between them their prized souvenir. They weren't taking any chances of the wind blowing away the umbrella used by Gene Kelly in the lighthearted fifties film known as _Singin' In The Rain._


	28. Get Me To The Church On Time

"C'mon, Faith! His car isn't here yet, so we're at the right point of the movie! Let's get inside before he comes!"

After Andrew excitedly called this out over his shoulder, the young man glanced both ways along the nearly deserted night-time street. Seeing it was safe to cross, Andrew dashed forwards at the best speed his out of condition body could manage towards the enormous, atmospherically-lit structure ahead which was their destination.

Giving a very exasperated roll of her eyes, Faith jogged after her game partner at a fraction of her Slayer speed. She contemptuously curled a lip towards the bent-over, gasping man when she caught up with him at the top of the wide stone stairs leading to the front entrance of the church. In the middle of Andrew trying to regain his breath, Faith snarked at him, "When's the last time ya got a li'l exercise? And cuttin' yer way up the line for the latest X-men flick damn well don't count. We get sent somewhere in Red's scavenger hunt where ya haveta haul yer wide-load ass over rougher country than this, ya ain't gonna fuckin' like it!"

"Shhhh!" furiously hissed Andrew, straightening up while spinning to face Faith, a finger pressed to his lips. His eyes worriedly shifting towards the closed front door of the church, Andrew glanced back at the suddenly annoyed woman. Before Faith could really begin to express her rude opinion about her companion in even more inappropriate language considering just where she was at this exact moment, Andrew mouthed in his most frantic manner, "Faith, there's people inside who might be able to hear you! Don't say things like that, which'll only make them suspicious!"

Faith exaggeratedly leaned over to further study her alarmed company's rear end, before responding in her most sardonic tone, "Hell, ain't nobody gonna argue yer butt's big enough to be seen from outer space-"

"Not that!" Andrew huffed indignantly. He glared at the snickering Slayer, before icily informing her, "I meant the other things about us being from, uh, our home which isn't here, and also what we need to do. Now, can we please get back to our business? I don't think we have more than a minute or so, which is just enough time to get inside. Let's _go,_ already!"

Turning without bothering to see what effect his recent words had on Faith, Andrew stepped up to the front door. With some effort, he pulled open the massive panel, leaving it ajar after going through the doorway.

Lifting her eyes to the front of the illuminated church, Faith muttered to nobody in particular, "Ya see what I gotta stomach from him? This better make up for a few a' my sins, which I hadda lot more fun doin' than I'm havin' right now with the redemption bit an' all!" Shaking her head, the young woman now crossed the church's threshold.

A few quick strides later, Faith caught up with Andrew just as they entered into a large vestibule before the inner main doors of the church. There, both New Council members saw a black man formally clad in a tuxedo look up at them from a worried check at his watch. This instantly-recognizable character developed a look of genuine irritation on his dark features, while he advanced towards the pair. Waving his hands in a hold-it gesture, Lucius Best impatiently said, "Sorry, folks, We're closed for a private ceremony-"

Faith was so caught up by how much this guy sounded just like Samuel L. Jackson that she was taken completely by surprise at Andrew's confident interruption, "For Bob and Helen's wedding, right? There was a mix-up with the invitations, so we got ours at the last minute. We couldn't even change before rushing over here. I'm The Watcher, and this is Slayer Lady."

At those last words identifying the pair, Andrew pointed to himself, which was perfectly fine. Except, right afterwards, he definitely crossed the line by reaching out to casually drape his right arm over a startled Faith's shoulders.

"What?" The superhero known as Frozone frowned uncertainly at the two strangers. Not only hadn't he ever met them before, or had any prior knowledge they were attending the wedding, but neither of them particularly looked like people with any kind of powers. For one, the guy smirking at him wasn't in the best of shape, unlike his companion. As for her, this admittedly fit young woman had turned her head to fixedly eye the possessive male hand resting on the top of her right shoulder. Lucius tried again, "I've never heard of either-"

A loud, yelped "_URK!_" once more interrupted Frozone. This came right after the lady he'd just met now moved in a blur of superhuman speed to shrug off the arm on her shoulders. She then reached out with her own left arm equally rapidly to hook a sole finger under that guy's shirt collar. Next, without showing any signs of strain at all, she lifted him entirely off his feet and held him up in the air, again by nothing but her single slim finger. All this happened in the split second of the guy's pained gurgle.

Taking a single wary step back, Lucius used his own freezing powers to coat his hands with a thin layer of frost, just in case he needed it. From the looks of things, that crazy white chick over there wasn't too thrilled about what just went down. A minor clue to this was her angry face which was showing her teeth in a savage snarl directly upwards at the purpling guy still dangling helplessly in her effortless grasp. Frozone tensed further when what's-her-name now glared at him, before visibly curbing her temper.

Faith curtly told the guy in the penguin suit, "Dorkbreath here's gonna pay later for callin' me a lady, but I'm for fuckin' sure a Slayer. We're here for the weddin', okay? So, let us in already, dammit!"

Bob was going to owe him a lifetime of major favors for this, Lucius inwardly vowed. At once coming to a decision, the best man to Mr. Incredible shrugged, stepped aside, and nodded at the inner door. "Yeah, fine, join the crowd. Just work out your issues with each other somewhere else after the wedding, all right?"

Continuing to glower at Lucius but without saying another word, the young woman used her free hand to yank open the door. She then stalked inside, still easily carrying her limp burden. Resignedly shaking his head, Frozone closed the door after the latest wedding guests, and he went back waiting for Bob. Who damned well better be here soon.

A few yards into the central main aisle, Faith let go of Andrew, who managed to both land and stay upright on his unsteady feet. Getting right into the wincing face of this swaying man, Faith snarled at him, "Just 'cuz we're partners doesn't give ya the right ta paw me! Ya try it again, yer gonna lose- _What?!_"

This belligerent last word was snapped by Faith interrupting herself at Andrew hastily pointing down the aisle. Following his indicating finger, the Slayer turned her head to stare at the far end of the church, where a pretty red-haired bride in her white dress standing by the altar was looking back at them in clear astonishment. This flabbergasted reaction was also shared by the others there, including the priest and the dozen or so men and women sitting in the front pews. These latter people were craning their heads around to look at who'd just disturbed them, with most of these masked individuals clad in a wide variety of colorful costumes.

A rare mood of sudden, absolute embarrassment overcame Faith. She instantly shut her mouth, while feeling her face turn bright scarlet. Even for the normally uncouth Slayer, there were limits. A possible chance of ruining someone's wedding wasn't something that Faith was willing to do at any time. Bobbing her head in a sheepish apology, Faith sidled to the right into the nearest empty pew in the middle of the church. She quickly sat down at the far end of this long bench. For once knowing when to shut up, Andrew had tagged along, and he discreetly took his place by the subdued woman.

Thankfully for Faith, after a few more moments of being stared at, she was no longer the focus of everyone's attention. The occupants of the other pews turned back around to watch the bride. Elastigirl in her own turn was impatiently gazing at the closed church doors, which maintained their stubborn refusal to open and introduce her soon-to-be husband. Out of the corner of her eye, Faith saw Andrew sneak Willow's video camera out of his pocket and cautiously hold it just above the upper edge of the ahead pew's straight back. A quick press of his finger started a recording of the marriage ceremony at the beginning of the animated Pixar film _The Incredibles._

Faith grudgingly admitted inside her head, that even if it was shared with Andrew, she was still glad to see at first hand a pivotal moment from one of her favorite movies. Yeah, it'd sure have been a lot more fun to stick around for some of the action scenes. Such as the terrific finale with the whole family and the Frozone guy back there takin' down Syndrome's Omnidroid. Guess Red figgered correctly Mr. Geek here woulda walked straight inta the whole brawl, filmin' it all like he was invulnerable.

The Slayer enjoyed a brief, happy fantasy of a multi-ton steel globe rolling over the damn pain in the neck presently sitting by her and reducing Andrew Wells into a thin smear on the ground. In the middle of this, Faith's concentration was abruptly diverted by the door opening again. She, like everyone else, now watched two men in their tuxes enter the church, walking side-by-side down the main aisle.

A fascinated woman couldn't help but stare at the big guy on the left, especially when he passed by their pew. Ignoring how Andrew was still putting everything on video, Faith closely examined from head to toe Mr. Incredible in his civilian identity. She lecherously reflected, *Hell, that guy there, he's for sure a fine piece of beefcake. Me, I wouldn't mind a one-night stand with tall, blonde, and hunky. Wonder how good he'd be between the sheets? Mighta finally let loose, what with him bein' seriously strong and able to take a lotta punishment.*

For the next few minutes while the wedding ceremony started and her game partner got it on film, Faith entertained herself with these and other ribald thoughts. Soon enough, it all ended, and even Faith had to smile at seeing how a new husband and wife couple made their joyous way back up the aisle. They were closely followed by their cheering friends in the superhero community tossing handfuls of rice after the wedded pair. Nobody bothered to pay any attention to the New Council members in their pew. Seeing this, Faith got up and strolled past Andrew out into the main aisle, looking at the backs of the departing crowd.

The Slayer then saw over everyone's heads the double inner doors being thrown open, signaling Bob and Helen Parr were about to leave the church. Except right after somewhere in the crowd, a loud voice with the weirdest accent Faith had ever heard then shouted, "VAIT, DARLINK! ZHROW ZE BOOKAY!"

There was a short pause, as Faith tried to figure out what the fuck _that_ meant. Until a moment later, an object sailed high into the air. However, this had been tossed up in the church with a little too much enthusiasm, so it went completely over the entire halted crowd of guests. In fact, as it completed its airborne arc along the main aisle, the small bunch of flowers was headed directly towards Faith…

Without thinking about it, this warrior woman adroitly caught the plummeting wedding bouquet. She honestly had no idea of exactly what she'd just done, until Andrew's instant guffaw made Faith turn her head. She saw her companion standing a few feet away in the space between the pews and still holding the video camera up to his face. The young man with his shoulders shaking in unstoppable laughter had clearly been taping it all. At that point, the horrified Slayer then realized the true significant of her recent actions.

Ignoring how the crowd of wedding guests was being abruptly shoved apart by something bulling its way through them at knee level, Faith growled terrifyingly into the shit-eating grin of Andrew now lowering his camera, "Ya better fuckin' erase that! I ain't gonna get teased by them back home 'bout tyin' the knot with- OWWW!"

This immediate shriek of real agony was due to an explosion of pain unexpectedly coming from Faith's left shin. Instantly bending forward, she frantically looked down to rub at her aching leg with her free hand, only to totally freeze in this ludicrous position. Faith stared with teary eyes directly into the furious spectacled face of Edna Mode glaring back up at her. Nearly nose-to-nose with the other and much taller woman, this diminutive fashion designer was quivering with suppressed rage. Edna was also bringing down to the floor her right foot wearing a flawlessly styled shoe with a stiletto heel and steel toecaps.

Still stooped over, Faith could only gape at who'd just viciously kicked her, unable to understand the reason for this assault by someone barely half her size. At least, until Edna then glanced with irate covetousness at the flowers still clutched in Faith's left hand. Switching back her incensed gaze towards the thief of what she'd desperately wanted, Edna sneered at full force towards the slatternly-dressed woman. The half-Japanese/half-German designer for the superhero community then spun around with an air of offended dignity, and she marched away back up the church aisle past a respectful crowd of past and present clients.

Straightening up, the Slayer winced at how much her leg was throbbing. Glumly eyeing the bouquet she still held (which even if it was a helluva souvenir, it sure didn't make up for the serious bruise already developing down there), Faith then heard Andrew snicker, "Looks like you're never going to get a costume from _her, _even without any kind of cape."

"Bite me, Andy."


	29. Fifty Words Led To This

In Willow's small magical book  
The task seemed more than clear:  
"You should be close enough to look  
Just eat or devour that's near."

A Slayer, ready to attack,  
"We'll make up a lot of time  
Right now, so no need to hold back  
Hey, why am I talking in rhyme?"

"Uh-oh," said the other young lady,  
"We must be nowhere but Seuss-land  
Given it's all bright and unshady  
Not to mention what's close at hand."

The two women stared in shock  
At the steaming contents of two plates  
By each other on a stone block  
As if laid out by one of the Fates.

The food there wasn't some sort of steak  
Either from a cow or a tree  
No, this fast had to end in a break  
Of ham and eggs, green as could be.

"Do we really have to eat all that?"  
Rona said, along with her best glare  
To a plate of odd food on a mat  
Disliking at sight the latest dare.

"If you're not, I'm damn well gonna  
Plus, it looks quite normal to me,"  
Dawn chided a grumpy Rona  
With a smack of lips by the Key.

A hundred vamps she'd far rather fight  
An equal set of demons and such  
The warrior yearned to show her might  
Not at something making her say, "YUCH!"

"Oh, shut up and stuff it down your throat,"  
Dawn sniffed, adding to her good pal,  
"It's not like there's a chance you'll bloat  
Since you won't gain an ounce, Slayer gal."

The pair then ate, one glad and one not  
Still, when done, Rona had to admit,  
"Got to say, downing that in a shot  
Made me regret not savoring it."

Nodding, Dawn opened the book  
As Rona burped from her tummy  
The Key sent around one last look  
Hearing her friend say, "It'd be yummy"

"To top off that snack with a drink  
Of cold water, coffee, or juice, see  
Did Willow forget this, ya think?  
Me, I'm craving my choice, like Giles' tea-"

A frantic Dawn yanked on the tome  
Lest they be trapped here for all time  
By Rona stranding them far from home  
For saying what doesn't have a rhyme.

The pair disappeared from sight  
Leaving pleasant Seuss-land on its own  
Search in all there from day to night  
But you'll never be told, just shown

A fruit or color like a dim sun  
Because truly the best poet  
Doesn't put an 'orange,' even in fun  
At a line's end, and you know it.


	30. Today's Letter Is

Through the viewscreen of a video camera, a blue-furred creature observed presumably standing behind an open window in the living room of a house located along a very famous street was carefully examining what it'd been given a moment before by a passer-by outside. This rectangular object was turned over several times in stubby fingers. Big, googly eyes possessing the sole colors of white orbs and black spots for pupils studied the strange gift in absolute absorption for several moments more, until a decision was made at last. Popping the unfamiliar morsel of food into its jaws, the bizarre being chewed vigorously, only to stop at once when the delicious taste finally reached whatever this distinctly odd life form used for a brain.

The corners of its extra-wide mouth turning up in an ecstatic grin, Cookie Monster then blissfully mumbled through a mouthful of golden sponge cake with creamy filling, "Umm-umm-umm-umm-umm!"

At that point, Xander Harris leaned from the side to put his head into the camera's line of sight. Now next to the open front window of the Sesame Street brownstone, this one-eyed man located outside on the sidewalk had his own cheeks bulging with the other consumed item of his emergency stash. Nodding enthusiastically at the very strange dude indoors, to which he'd just handed over a flavorsome dessert through the window, Xander delivered with identical pleasure through a similar stuffed mouth an elated, "Umm-umm-umm-umm-umm!"

With loud, impolite gulps easily heard by the person using the video camera, both Cookie Monster and Xander swallowed their snacks, and they beamed with sheer joy at each other. Then, in an example of perfect harmonization (which never happens in real life without extensive rehearsals), the pair started singing to all the rest of Sesame Street's fascinated inhabitants currently clustered behind the camera operator:

"_T is for Twinkie, that's good enough for me  
T is for Twinkie, that's good enough for me  
T is for Twinkie, that's good enough for me  
Oh, Twinkie, Twinkie, Twinkie starts with T!_"

When they started the chorus all over again with equal gusto, Kennedy's shoulders started to shake with silent laughter. This young woman filming everything had thought a few minutes earlier that nothing could ever top being able to give and receive a loving hug from Big Bird, and then also amiably presented with one of this endearing avian's long yellow feathers now safely tucked away in Willow's magical book. However, what she was capturing on video was genuinely hilarious, and Xander clearly knew and didn't care, just so he had fun, along with anyone else who watched this.

Beginning to hum along with her boot toe tapping in time, the delighted Slayer with her camera enjoyed the big finish performed by Xander and Cookie Monster:

"_T is for Twinkie, that's good enough for me, yeah!  
T is for Twinkie, that's good enough for me  
T is for Twinkie, that's good enough for me  
Oh, Twinkie, Twinkie, Twinkie starts with T, yeah!  
Twinkie, Twinkie, Twinkie starts with T, oh boy!  
Twinkie, Twinkie, Twinkie starts with T!_"

* * *

Author's Note: The original 'C Is For Cookie' is of course the creation of Joe Raposo, to whom this chapter is affectionately dedicated.


	31. All The World's A Stage

Innocent of what was to come, Rupert Giles happily sank back into his audience seat. He looked around in clear satisfaction at the off-off-Broadway theater filled up for opening night. The Englishman approvingly noted to his companion in her own chair on his right, "It's nice to end our contest with a little culture, Vi. While not on the same level as _Hamlet_ or _King Lear,_ the play known as _Richard III_ is one of Shakespeare's better efforts. The title character's quite different than what's historically accurate, but with the right actor, this role can be an indisputable triumph for whomever portrays that monarch."

"Uh-huh," merely responded this young woman.

Despite her disinterested tone, Vi wasn't actually indifferent to her current surroundings. Rather, the Slayer was every now and then biting the inside of her cheek to avoid bursting into impolite laughter. Tightly pressing her lips together to further keep the mirth bubbling away inside from escaping, Vi read her playbill once more to check who they'd come to see was really going to appear tonight. Yes, there it was in black and white:

_Elliot Garfield as Richard, Duke of Gloucester_

Looking up when the house lights dimmed, Vi hastily passed over the playbill to Giles, who cheerfully accepted this. From the corner of his eye, he observed his charge stealthily remove a video camera from her pants pocket, and hold it ready in her lap. The New Council's Director mentally nodded in approval at his game partner about to speedily accomplish half of the required task for what seemed to be their final challenge. All she had to do was to film a part of the play, which should be simple enough seeing how dark the theater was now, with only the stage lights on. Nobody would be likely to pay any attention to Vi, with their eyes fixed on where the curtain was opening.

Just before the play began, Giles took a moment to muse about his own task. It should be equally straightforward to get this Mr. Garfield's autograph on the playbill he was now holding. The former Watcher was sure that actor wasn't someone famous, or even anybody he'd ever previously heard about during the late seventies. All it'd need was a quick trip to the actors' dressing rooms in back when the play was over-

Onstage, a gaudily-dressed figure flounced into view, waved a supremely limp-wristed hand, and he declaimed in a heavy lisp: "Now ith the winter of our dithcontent/Made gloriouth thummer by thith thun of York-"

"Oh, dear Lord," Giles groaned under his breath, unable to tear his appalled gaze away from where a legendary New York theatrical disaster was in the making. This meant he failed to notice where Vi the Vampire Slayer and also devoted fan of Neil Simon's 1977 award-winning film comedy _The Goodbye Girl_ was grinning like a loon while she kept her camera pointed in her boss's direction to capture his hilarious reaction.

A few hours later, Elliot Garfield huddled in his dressing room chair, gloomily staring at his haunted reflection in the mirror after a numb removal of his stage makeup. He just couldn't find the courage to get up and leave the tiny room to face the other actors. Or even worse, Paula and her daughter Lucy, who'd also been in the audience.

Not when they'd all seen him basically destroy his acting career by playing Richard III as such a queer to make Liberace resemble Ernest Hemingway. Yes, it'd all been done at the behest of the play's director, but who was going to care? He might as well as go back home to Chicago and take a job for life in his uncle's barbershop. That'd be good, steady work. Peoples' hair would always grow, right?

Elliot flinched at the sudden knock on his door, but his apprehension abruptly changed into confusion at the sound of the cultured voice speaking his name through the panel, "Mr. Garfield?"

The dressing room was so small that Elliot didn't even have to arise from his chair. Instead, he leaned over to the side and pulled open the door. Standing there in the doorway, a complete stranger with a very interesting face and a commanding presence was carefully regarding him. Elliot gazed blankly back at this unknown person, until this other man came to some sort of decision. Reaching into his tweed suit's front pocket, he pulled out a playbill and offered it to a bewildered Elliot.

Gaping at what he'd just accepted, the actor barely registered listening to a true upper-class English accent asking, him, "Sir, if you'd be so kind, would you please sign your name to this? I'd be most appreciative, thank you very much."

"What the hell for?!" exploded from Elliot, who just didn't care any more. He continued with all the fatalism of someone already at the halfway mark after jumping off the Empire State Building, "You can't tell me you enjoyed tonight's disaster, not when it's all my fault!"

There was a momentary silence in the room, causing Elliot to at last look up into the very intent gaze of the newcomer. After a few more uncomfortable seconds, this manifest Englishman slowly replied, "I do have to say, it was an exceedingly…unique event in my experience. Which is why I'd like a memento of it. Whatever emotional turmoil or actual loss of income may be the result of your performance, no tangible harm is likely to occur to those of us who were here tonight, you included. On the contrary, it'll be part of our lives to one day be remembered and enjoyed. I have all too many memories of the opposite kind, Mr. Garfield, which is why I'm nonetheless requesting your autograph, please."

His mouth falling open, Elliot couldn't help but to memorize every bit of that speech and its delivery, just in case he still could be an actor in spite of his recent debacle. If he ever played a leader of men in war and peace, that'd damn well be perfect-

A throat was politely cleared, making Elliot frantically snatch a pen off his dressing room table, and instantly sign the playbill. Passing it over, the stranger nodded in appreciation, only to abruptly stiffen and say with absolute exasperation, "Violet, stop poking me!"

Elliot blinked at what he'd just heard. Which then involved another happy voice coming from behind the man, "Well, move over then, Giles! I want to see him, too!"

Giving the startled actor still in his chair a very wry look, this Giles-person edged to the side of the narrow outside corridor, revealing a pretty young woman standing there and grinning at a yet-again baffled Elliot. This second stranger cheerfully waved at the character in the film she'd watched numerous times, telling him with clear enjoyment, "Don't worry, fella! Both of them still love you!"

A moment later, Elliot was gawking at the closed door, almost thinking it'd been all a dream. The seriously weird encounter had just ended with the two people out there saying goodbye and the older man gently shutting the dressing room door. Except…

He looked down at the pen still in his fingers. Giving an incredulous headshake, Elliot nevertheless found himself feeling a bit better, despite it all. The new apartment owner who'd fallen in love with the mother and child found living in his sub-let home even thought he was now able to face Paula and Lucy. Who knows, they might actually laugh about tonight, someday. A long, long time from now, but, yeah…


	32. Shake A Tail Feather, Slayer

It'd been totally worth it. Nearly twenty-four hours straight of being in the close company of the Supreme Geek of All Time, during which she'd had to fight down a near-irresistible urge every five goddamn minutes to seriously clout him, and Faith Lehane could at last justify her recent suffering. Hell, she didn't even mind Andrew Wells catching her on tape gaily skipping towards him.

Looking over his viewfinder to grin at the Slayer (for which Faith would've ordinarily stapled his lips together), Andrew earnestly said, "That was great, Faith! But where'd you go after the big number? We've got only a little more time before the game's over, and I thought you'd meet me here, like we arranged."

In their spot at the mouth of the alley opposite Ray's Music Exchange, Faith just cheerfully shrugged, lightly bouncing up and down on her feet. This inability to stay still was the direct result of the joyous music she'd recently heard, with these rhythms even now pounding away inside her head. Doing a few more dance steps just for the sheer hell of it, the young woman good-naturedly answered, "Oh, I just couldn't pass up the chance. Figgered I could make it and be back here 'fore Red's spell ends and we're on our way to the castle. Did it, too, and I got a really bitchin' souvenir outta it, for damn sure!"

In her pure delight, Faith stopped moving in the alleyway, to instead wrap her arms around herself and she began giggling out loud. A startled Andrew couldn't help but lower his video camera which now contained an irreplaceable copy of the 'Shake A Tail Feather' number from the 1980 film comedy _The Blues Brothers._

The rarity of this record caught by the New Council member a few minutes ago was due to the fact that unlike every other version in existence, this dimension's musical number now included an ecstatic Faith among the other dancers. At the forefront of the rest of the crowd caught up in the jaunty melody, the blissful Slayer had enthusiastically shown off her absolute mastery of such 1960's popular dances as the Twist, the Monkey, the Frug, and the Mashed Potatoes.

Bemusedly observing his game partner in such an atypical temper from how she'd grumpily acted during their whole day together, Andrew risked, "Uh, Faith, why are you in such a good mood now? We finished Willow's challenge, you dancing and me filming it, so I thought that was the end of the game. Except you took off; how come?"

"'Cuz I not only met and shook hands with Mr. Ray back there, I also paid my last fifty bucks to a certain long drink of water for a spare somethin' he was willin' to part with," Faith chortled. Grinning at an uncomprehending Andrew, the woman wanted to know, "How much time 'fore Red's timer hits zero?"

"Uh-" Andrew paused to glance at the camera in his hand, where a set of digital numbers magically laid upon this recording device were now showing 00:38. "About thirty seconds or so. Why-"

A superhuman female's gleeful cackle interrupted the man, swiftly returning Andrew's attention to his companion in the Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt. He watched in utter dumbfoundment when Faith then took out a very familiar set of protective eyewear from her pants pocket and put these on her face. The Slayer next flawlessly delivered a classic movie line just before two people vanished into thin air from the alley: "It's a hundred and six miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses."


	33. We Are The Champions

A large image of four digital numbers floated in mid-air of the New Council's castle conference room, counting down every second:

00:08...

00:07...

00:06...

00:05...

Merrily smiling, Willow Rosenberg lifted her hands to chest level, palms forward and fingers outspread, as she gathered up the vast magical energies she possessed in order to give close to a dozen people a proper Scooby Gang welcome.

00:04...

00:03...

00:02...

00:01...

00:00

Ten humans suddenly appeared inside the room from out of nowhere, just as the digital numbers faded into non-existence.

White light abruptly burst from all of the witch's fingertips, with these individual steams of radiance aimed at every single person there. These rays of brightness flashed across the room with blinding speed. The instant these magical beams struck their chosen targets, they changed from a thin line of illumination into completely encasing that specific man or woman in a glowing shell perfectly matching their bodies, extending from skin level to an inch or so past their clothing.

All of them sharing this bizarre experience - Buffy, Chao-Ahn, Vi, Giles, Faith, Andrew, Xander, Kennedy, Dawn and Rona - were unable to move or otherwise react inside their magical cocoons. All they could do was to have their eyes widen in shock, as they felt the magical consequences of what was now happening to them.

In short, they were each and every one being cleaned up after a whole day hard on the go during their recent scavenger hunt.

Wrinkled and sweaty clothing smoothed back into spotless and fresh garments, and it didn't stop there. The New Council members also felt a wave of purifying magic brush all over their skin, akin to undergoing the best ever refreshing shower. Indeed, from head to toe, the ten people there were now spruced to the maximum extent possible, with even their hair also cleaned and for the men, their beard stubble was entirely gone.

An instant later, the mystical luminosity still covering their bodies suddenly sank into these persons' forms, as if they were somehow absorbing it. This was exactly what was occurring, with every man and woman there feeling any trace of exhaustion from their recent exertions totally vanish. In fact, they now felt nothing less than invigorated. Everyone was chock-full of so much energy, it made them all bounce on their feet and shoot delighted looks at each other.

Just when the Scoobies simultaneously realized all of them could move once again on their own, a sharp _Crack!_ sound caused everybody to stare at the other end of the room where Willow had just smacked together her hands. Smirking at her friends, the Red Witch now gaily declared to them, "All right, let's get this party started! First of all, the winner of the game gets their prize!"

Startled glances were traded among themselves by the ten competitors. These expressions soon shifted into thoughtful calculation as they wondered just who in the room had been victorious. Willow started giggling when she quickly found herself under the impatient looks of her comrades wanting to know this right away. Catching her breath, the Wiccan pursed her lips in mock seriousness. This action was offset by the happy sparkle in the woman's eyes.

Eventually, Willow declared in her best game show host imitation, "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm pleased to inform you all, that due to the fine efforts of everybody participating in the scavenger hunt today, there's a four-way tie for second place!"

Mouths dropped open in shock throughout the room. Those who'd lately gone through a truly absurd inter-dimensional contest continued to gawk towards Willow grinning at them. She further crowed, "Yes, that's right! Before coming back here, four of the teams managed to finish six of their challenges! However, two of you working together surpassed the others, by carrying out _seven_ challenges! And, those champions of the Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt are nobody but…FAITH AND ANDREW!"

Whooping those last names at the top of her lungs, Willow darted forward into the crowd of stunned New Council members, and she skidded to a stop before two very dumbfounded people standing side by side. Grabbing their adjoining arms by these game partners' wrists, Willow lifted up high the slack limbs of Andrew and Faith in the usual triumphant gesture seen at the finale of boxing and wrestling matches.

There was a short pause of frozen silence in the room, until it exploded with accepting cheers. The other scavenger hunt teams called out spirited congratulations to the winners, and they also started good-naturedly giving those successful competitors a standing ovation. Still in their disbelieving daze, Faith and Andrew looked around at the others there vigorously clapping their hands in sheer delight.

In due course, this mismatched pair met Willow's amused gaze. All while the witch in close proximity to them still held up high their arms. At last letting go, to allow these limbs to drop back at their sides, Willow backed up a step to then chortle directly at the still-shocked champions, "Ready for your prize, guys? Well, here it is!"

Right after saying this, Willow looked up at the conference room's ceiling, and she snapped her fingers once. Naturally, everyone also tilted back their heads to see what the witch was staring at. The whole room now saw something materialize just below the middle of the ceiling in another flash of light, but this time in a golden shade. Blinking in reaction, the spectators then watched this new object gently float downwards, until it stopped to hover in mid-air a few inches above the head of the tallest person around. Which meant everybody could both easily see and appreciate the unique trophy hanging there.

Instead of some sort of cup, plaque, or other ordinary token of victory, the trophy was a small gold statuette of the cartoon character Scooby Doo, about a foot high and fashioned to show him placidly sitting on his haunches atop a circular wooden pedestal. This sculptured figurine perfectly resembled this animated Great Dane in true Hanna-Barbera style, down to the comical canine grin on that animal's muzzle.

A rushing sound of inward-drawn breath swept throughout the conference room, indicating people were about to start laughing at the top of their lungs. Except, this inhalation abruptly halted, because of what had just taken everyone by surprise.

Scooby Doo came to life.

The statuette's head turned from its formerly frozen position to look down and straight at Faith and Andrew gaping back up at this unexpected event. A tiny golden tongue fell out to dangle at the side of the dog's mouth, who then started to happily pant, along with an actual look of supreme high spirits appearing on Scooby's expressive face. Next, the beast who'd long ago given his name to a former high-school library group protecting the Sunnydale Hellmouth scrambled onto his hind legs. Standing there on the pedestal, the metallic effigy cheerfully waved a paw at them all below, and then this faithful companion to the Mystery, Inc. gang started to flawlessly imitate yet another cartoon canine.

Energetically flailing his limbs in absurd comical gyrations, Scooby Doo performed the Snoopy Dance.

By the time it was all over and the little statuette returned to its former posture and became immobile once again, a good number of people in the room had dropped to the floor while shrieking with hilarity. Curled up on the carpet while hold ribs aching from laughter, they then knuckled away ecstatic tears from their eyes. Still in the middle of the room, Willow proudly waved her right hand in a mystical gesture.

The trophy again floated downwards, to wind up in Faith's waiting hands. Holding the edges of the base, this Slayer's attention was caught by a miniature brass plate attached to the pedestal's top, just before the front paws of the cartoon sculpture. There, two names were engraved, one above the other: FAITH and ANDREW. A last line was further etched into the brass, announcing the simple accomplishment: _Winners of the Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt._

A very tentative look on her face, Faith cautiously glanced up to meet Willow's satisfied expression. Before the redhead could speak, she and the rest of the room instead heard Faith declare, "'Kay, I gotta say a coupla things. Ta start off… Here."

That final statement was gruffly spoken in conjunction with the possessor of the scavenger hunt trophy turning to where Andrew Wells was standing. Caught completely off guard, that young man accepted without thinking the trophy suddenly extended into his direction by Faith.

Around the room, mouths dropped open in awe. Those who'd previously been on the floor now scrambled back up onto their feet. Only to stop dead in their tracks, at the sheer menace lurking in a single snarled word:

"_You._"

Her right arm straight out from her body at shoulder level and pointing a deadly fingernail a fraction of an inch from the tip of Andrew's nose, Faith growled at her paling game partner, "This whole day, ya been the biggest pain ever in my damn fine butt! I woulda been fuckin' happy in the game with anyone else at all, even the most evil, baby-munchin' demon, 'cuz after we finished I coulda filleted that shitheel inta compost!"

Faith continued to glower at the sweating geek while ignoring the rest of the fascinated crowd. Restarting her rant, but this time in a much more grudging tone, "On the other hand, ya can't be anybody but yer usual dumbass self, an' ya _did_ yer job, helpin' us win in spite of openin' yer big yap alla the time! So…" Looking as if she'd rather gnaw off her leg at the knee than have to admit the rest, Faith gritted, "Every family's got some really stupid relations, but they're still part a' the clan, and nobody else better mess with 'em! Just don't get in any card games, buy lottery tickets, or play the ponies, 'cuz ya just used up every bit of yer shit fer brains luck the rest of yer life! I ain't gonna lay on a finger on ya, which is more 'n ya really deserve!"

Hardly daring to believe it, Andrew let out a loud gasp of pure relief over this stay of execution. He still stiffened in alarm at Faith's baleful gaze, even when her irritated expression abruptly changed into a somewhat less threatening but yet worrisome sardonic air. The Sunnydale native uneasily regarded Faith nodding at what he was holding. A truly wicked smile, which Andrew had become all too accustomed with over the past twenty-four hours, now appeared upon the beautiful Slayer's visage.

The absorbed room then listened to Faith vindictively purr at the apprehensive man, "Don't mean yer gonna get off scot-free, Andy. That first-rate prize there… Ya got 'bout five more minutes ta enjoy it, seein' how _I'm_ plannin' ta keep it in my place fer life, where ya ain't ever gonna touch it again! 'Course, if ya think that's kinda unfair, we coulda discuss it later. Say, when I'm in the middle of teachin' that li'l doggie ta play fetch with yer spleen-"

At that point, Andrew was frantically shaking his head in denial. During this, the fearful dork also timidly proffered the Scooby Doo trophy for Faith to reclaim the scavenger hunt award.

Shoulders gracefully rolling in an aloof shrug, Faith dismissively addressed Andrew, "I tol' ya, keep it fer a coupla minutes. There's somethin' more I gotta do first."

With those words, Faith next spun on her heel away from where the suddenly thankful man stood. The Slayer's subsequent actions then took everyone else there in the conference room totally by surprise. This definitely included the recipient of an unforeseen gesture, who had no time to register the warrior woman advancing directly towards herself. Before she could do anything about it, Willow Rosenberg was easily picked up by arms containing superhuman strength, and she was then engulfed into an intense hug from Faith.

Her feet dangling a few inches above the castle floor, the astonished witch was firmly but inescapably pressed up against a former enemy's body. The cheeks of the two women's faces rubbed against each other as they remained in intimate contact. While looking over Willow's shoulder, the low voice from the brunette embracing someone whose life she'd long ago threatened carried to even the normal humans there gawking at this scene.

With utter conviction in her tone, Faith gratefully told Willow, "Thanks, Red. For everythin.'"

A wide smile slowly blossomed on Willow's lips. Her own arms came up to return Faith's hug.

At that moment, Xander and Kennedy simultaneously recovered from their wonder, to hustle forward in yet another collaboration. This finished with these two New Council members winding up hugging Willow in unison. Both Kennedy and Xander then released an arm from embracing their adored Wils to put these around Faith's shoulders to join in with the witch in holding close the Boston-born Slayer.

In a rush of bodies, all but one of those there now completed the circle of heroes. Starting from Kennedy's left side, Vi hugged her and also a man she'd come to know very well and fondly respect over the last day. A rarely-seen joyous smile was at present on Giles' normally serious countenance, as he lightly rested his hands upon the shoulders of Vi and Buffy. In turn, these women's arms were curled around the waist of his tweed suit. Buffy herself was beaming at the opportunity to show just how much she cared about her once-and-always Watcher, and also a woman she'd finally recognized as a second sister.

From out of the corner of her right eye, Faith saw B's elated grin at the same time that blonde's hand caringly rubbed her back. An equally satisfied smirk appeared on the other original Slayer's mouth. Faith didn't know who else was patting her back, since that person was hidden by Willow's head in the way. Hey, nohow was she complaining.

Actually, it was Rona, who'd always admired Faith. And now, that girl with a horrible past life which led her into the wrong choices of heartbreak and betrayal at long last had those who'd support and cherish Faith no matter what. Not to mention taking complete delight in their comrade's latest triumph. Grinning just as broadly as anyone else there, the black Slayer continued to hug both Faith and Dawn.

The Key herself was equally thrilled about the whole thing, including the chance to give Xander a good, long, Summers sister squeeze. Already beginning to plot about the chance of possibly taking things a bit further with the one-eyed man later on after the party, Dawn contentedly glanced around. She was taken a bit aback at seeing someone standing apart from them all, looking more than a little forlorn. At once coming to the only proper decision, a magically created human raised her voice, drawing the others' attention, "Don't be such an idiot, Andrew! Get over here!"

Necks craned to see a dejected Andrew Wells off to one side, away from the circle of embracing people. Murmurs of encouraging acceptance came from several, along with nods of acceptance from the rest. This was followed by Dawn and Rona letting go of their interlocked arms to determinedly beckon him on. An overcome Andrew stumbled forward, until he was grabbed by these young women's hands and brought into the circle.

Still holding onto the Scooby Doo trophy, but with the arms of Rona and Dawn reaching through the crooks of his elbows, Andrew sniffled a few times. He promptly rallied, to giddily comment, "Guys, it's just like the Fellowship of the Ring, which was Tolkien's paradigm in respect to the comradeship shown by the British soldiers in their World War One trenches-"

Listening to the more than familiar voice over there burbling on and on and on, Faith expressively rolled a single eye in weary cynicism. She then shifted her gaze at the other well-known face pressed up against hers, to see Willow's own eyes blissfully closed while leaking from these shut lids tears of absolute happiness. Faith then tenderly smiled, with this facial movement being felt by the witch, whose joy only increased even more.

_This_ was why she'd done it. Her friends had truly needed a break from the exhaustion of their spirits and bodies, and Willow had set out to do precisely that. Now it was all over, and a complete success, to boot. Which was at this instant providing the Red Witch's own reward, the opportunity to unreservedly bask in the love of her entire family.

A few seconds later, the euphoric creator of today's game heard Xander softly clear his throat. This pal since kindergarten then whispered into her ear, "Hey, Wils, before we start the party, I've got a question. You said Faith and Andrew won by finishing seven challenges. Exactly how many of those did you set up, anyway?"

In the embracing circle, everyone there now heard Willow's clear laughter when she opened her shining eyes to smile around at them all. She eventually chortled to nobody in particular, "Oh, you'll have to wait and see, until the _next_ Great Scooby Scavenger Hunt!"


End file.
